


Sex, Drugs and the Italian Mafia

by TP3319



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Blackmail, Character Deaths, Drug Dealing, Forced Abortion, Friends to Lovers, It's not our boys dw, Italian Mafia, M/M, Modern Era, Police corruption, Roadtrip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 51,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25989106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TP3319/pseuds/TP3319
Summary: Tommy Shelby is a part time drug dealer and the head of Pi Betas, the youngest fraternity on the Birmigham University Greek life scene. But one fateful frat party turns his feud with the Changrettas into a dangerous game as he finds himself on the run from the police and hides out with the only person he can (sort of) trust: Alfie Solomons.
Relationships: Grace Burgess/Tommy Shelby, Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Comments: 23
Kudos: 26





	1. Threat

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go, guys, I managed to write a college AU without a single use of the word 'study'. It' not really a college AU, they're AT college, but that's completely irrelevant for the story.
> 
> I want to preface this by saying that the story is all over the place and riddled with plotholes, but I don't have the willpower to fix everything, so you're just gonna have to squint a bit. Hope you can still enjoy it, though. The fic is finished. It will have 17 chapters and will probably be updated daily (I'll try my best).
> 
> And yes, I know fraternities are not really a thing in the UK, neither are they a thing where I come from, but for the sake of plot, lets's just pretend they're a completely normal occurrence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy goes to a frat party, expecting nothing more than another boring evening, but things turn violent.

The lift takes forever to arrive. During the summer break I’ve forgotten how slow the lift in Epsilon Epsilon Theta frat house is. The kid in the green hoodie with the letters ΕΕΘ stitched on it smiles nervously at me. I sigh impatiently and the boy looks away and starts fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. It makes me smile just how scared he is. The Epsilons have taught their young well.

The lift door finally opens and I take Grace’s hand as we enter. There is another Epsilon in the lift, who presses the number five and we start our journey up. I am very much not looking forward to this. The Alpha Pi Epsilon party, colloquially known as the Ape, is the first and biggest party of the year in the Birmingham University Greek life. It is also the only joint party of all three BU fraternities. Epsilon Epsilon Theta lend their frat house because it’s the biggest, Alpha Beta Sigma provides alcohol, because that’s their specialty and we, the Pi Betas, provide other sorts of… medication. Not strictly legal, but it’s the one night everyone looks away. What happens at the Ape, stays at the Ape.

When the lift doors open again the loud assault of Eurodance music shakes me from my thoughts. I shake my head and step into the overcrowded Epsilon party room. I will never understand their obsession with Eurodance. Granted, the Changrettas have Italian roots, but the sheer amount of heavily accented one-sentence choruses in just unnecessary.

We are fashionably late and the party is in full swing. It’s been a while since I attended one, but there is a certain routine to these things and soon enough my mind eases into it. I smile at Grace and take her hand. I scan the room for important people: Angel Changretta, the leader of the Epsilons is talking to some other Epsilons in the corner, clearly not as socially apt as his big brother; Alfie Solomons, the leader of the Alphas is mingling with the people by the alcohol table, strategically positioned so he can observe who drinks what – makes it easier to sell the right kind of alcohol to the right kinds of people.

I lead Grace toward the dancefloor. There’s a DJ booth in one corner of the room, coupled with a bunch of reflector lights and a spinning disco ball. A sea of dancing people is washed in waves of violet and blue. A few years ago, I’d be right there in the middle, drunk out of my mind, rubbing bodies with girls and boys alike. I’ve grown up.

‘Grace, may I have this dance?’ I turn to my girlfriend. She smiles and I smile back. I don’t smile often, at least not genuinely. When I do, it’s mostly because of her.

We blend into the mass of people. A couple of Pi Betas greet me and pat me on the back, I do the same. I’ve worked hard to build the relationship that I have with them – a mix of respect, authority and friendliness. I treat them as equals and they’re loyal to me. It’s nice to see they’re having fun.

I put my arms around Grace’s waist and start moving to the beat. Grace laughs as I spin her around and give her a quick kiss on the cheek. Compared to everything else you can see on the dancefloor, it really doesn’t count as PDA. I hate the music, but I love the anonymity of the dancefloor. For a few minutes, I am invisible. It feels nice while it lasts.

‘Hey, Tommy!’ someone behind me shouts. I turn to see who’s disturbed my peace. John, my little brother is walking toward me unsteadily, wide grin on his face, a cup in his hand, clearly having indulged in Alfie’s goods already. I don’t judge him. I’d get drunk as well, but at this point, I am too much of a public figure to afford any mistakes.

I nod to my brother. It’s too loud to talk here. I leave the dancefloor with Grace and John in tow.

‘So, John, enjoying your first college party?’ I ask my brother, as we make our way to the alcohol table.

‘It’s great, Tommy. There’s this sorority girl that just straight out gave me her number,’ John starts explaining. I huff, remembering the times when such a thing as a girl giving you her number mattered.

‘Lizzie?’ I ask, knowing full-well that besides the first years, there’s probably a handful of guys at this party who haven’t at least groped her at some point.

‘Yeah,’ John smiles excitedly. ‘She seems nice.’

I nod knowingly. I think of telling John of her reputation but decide against it. It’s his first college party and who am I to judge, I’ve gone there before.

‘Use protection,’ I say and pat him on the back. John can be reckless when it comes to his dick. It’s happened before and Tommy really doesn’t want to repeat the Martha incident.

‘Hey, she’s not a whore,’ Grace protests by my side. I smile at her.

‘I never said that,’ I say, which is as close as I get to apologizing. But Grace’s right. Lizzie’s not a bad girl whatsoever, she just thinks sleeping with as many people as possible will elevate her social status. It’s rather sad, actually. I feel a ping of shame for having taken advantage of that in the past, but I don’t let it show. Of course, I stopped sleeping around once I started dating Grace. I probably don’t show it enough, but I am so grateful for her. She keeps me grounded.

I find a window near the table and open it. I sit on the windowsill, propping one foot up and dangling the other down, fish out a cigarette and light it. The smoke fills my lungs and I immediately feel more at ease. I’m sure at this point the nicotine doesn’t even have an effect, it just takes off the edge that comes with withdrawal.

‘I thought I felt a breeze,’ Alfie approaches my windowsill and hands me a glass of whiskey, handing the other one to Grace. Now, normally, I wouldn’t trust people handing me alcohol at a party, but this is Alfie. Anything goes wrong with the booze, it’s his business that suffers.

‘Thank you, Alfie,’ I raise the glass and take a sip. Jameson. Nice.

‘Grace,’ Alfie nods toward her and she nods back. Then Alfie turns toward John.

‘And this must be Tommy Junior,’ Alfie pats John on the back. John smiles at him uncomfortably, not used to strangers touching him. To be fair, it’s taken me a long time to get used to Alfie as well. For fuck’s sake, the guy calls his booze ‘bread’ like we’re in some sort of prohibition. But he grows on you. I would dare call him a friend.

‘It’s John,’ my brother informs Alfie, not knowing that it’s futile. Alfie will only remember your name if he deems it important.

‘John, right,’ Alfie mutters and nods. ‘So, Tommy, how was your summer? Heard a rumour that your brother got his boxing license declined. Shame, that.’

Anger flares inside of me for a second, but I ignore it. Arthur should’ve seen it coming. I am not going to babysit my brother. Arthur graduated with a large debt to one Alfie Solomons, thinking that he’s untouchable now that he’s out of college. A few weeks ago, Arthur received two letters: one from British Boxing Board of Control, informing him that his application for a boxing license was declined for ‘undisclosed reasons’ and one from Solomons, informing him of his outstanding debt. Even Artur managed to put two and two together. Lesson learned: you don’t fuck with Alfie Solomons. That’s why I strive to stay on his good side.

‘He’s payed you back, hasn’t he?’ I ask instead, making sure that whatever dispute happened between Alfie and my brother, is behind us.

‘He sure fucking did. Needed some persuasion, you know. That’s business,’ Alfie says with an apologetic smile, confirming there is no bad blood between us. It’s just business.

‘I understand,’ I nod and inhale another lungful of my smoke. ‘That reminds me, we need to talk about the exchange rate of snow and booze.’

‘Fucking hell, Tommy, it’s a fucking party, talk of business can wait,’ Alfie vaguely gestures around the room to specify the party. I snort and raise my eyebrow but say nothing. I know that’s bullshit. Business is why men like me and Alfie attend these parties. But I get it. It’s not good to talk business in the midst of potential clients.

‘I think I see May!’ Grace suddenly points toward the dancefloor. ‘I’m going to go say hi.’

I don’t bother looking where she’s pointing. I know she’s just searching for an excuse to leave. She disapproves of my pastime as a drug dealer and I don’t blame her. For me it’s business like any other and I rarely partake. I know that doesn’t make it any better. But when I started, it meant money, it meant financial independence, not just for me, but my brothers and sister too. Now… Now I just can’t stop. I’m good at it and it’s not like you can have too much money. But I could stop. Sometimes I want to. For Grace. But instead I just peck her on the lips and tell her to go find May.

‘So, you’re the one that supplies the booze?’ John asks Alfie. Not a good idea to be this direct with people around here. I’ll have to teach him some tact if he’s to take over the Pi Betas once I graduate. But I let it slide. He’s a kid and it’s just Alfie.

‘Bread,’ Alfie corrects him and John gives him a confused look. Alfie doesn’t explain, just seems amused by the situation, but that’s just how he always looks. ‘If you want to throw a party, you go to your brother. If you just want bread, you come to me.’

John nods thoughtfully. Alfie goes on to list all sorts of booze he can provide. Little does John know that all the booze that miraculously apparated in their academy dorm whenever there was a party going on – all Alfie. But that’s the illegal side of the business that John will learn of when it’s time for that.

I finish the cigarette and throw it out the window before jumping off the windowsill.

‘Alright, time to go talk to the man of the house,’ I decide. ‘Need to tell him to change the fucking music.’

‘Yeah, fucking awful sound, this,’ Alfie agrees. ‘I’ve already sent Ollie to hijack the DJ booth.’

‘Good,’ I nod. Anything is better than Eurodance.

I start to make my way across the room and leave the window open. Hopefully, it costs the Epsilons a bit extra on heating. There is an ongoing dispute between the Changrettas and the Pi Betas, mostly because they somehow managed to get a part of our funding relocated to the Epsilons. Blackmail, I’d say. But I can’t prove anything and other than staring daggers and some passive aggressive threats, I can’t do shit about it.

‘Excuse me,’ I hear someone on my right. It’s some kid I’ve never seen before.

‘Yes?’ I ask with a slight hint of impatience. It makes people get to the point quicker.

‘Uhm…’ the kid stutters but seems to get a hold of himself. ‘I was told to talk to you if I want drugs. Do you have cocaine?’

A first timer, probably first year. That’s how it works. Rumours are spread that there are drugs. There’s people, Pi Betas mostly, keeping an eye out for kids aimlessly searching for a high. And they refer them to me. That way I know my costumers and they know who they’re really dealing with. I give them a sample and send them to Johnny Dogs if they ever need more. Tonight is the only night I deal myself.

‘What’s your name?’ I ask the guy. I reach in my inner coat pocket and pull out a piece of paper and a pen. I collect names of all my clients. Makes them easier to track if things go awry.

‘Harold,’ he answers. I nod.

‘Last name?’

‘Hancox.’

I write down his name and then produce a small bag of white powder from my coat. It’s about enough for two lines. Nobody should do snow alone.

‘Have you ever done cocaine?’ I ask before handing the goods. Harold shakes his head. Of course. I think of telling him he shouldn’t. It’s a nasty habit. But it’s just business. I am not going to turn away a potential client.

‘Okay, find someone who has. Shouldn’t be too hard around here. Offer them a blow and ask them to teach you,’ I suggest and the kid nods. He seems scared enough to actually do as I say. I scan the room for a guy in a tracksuit and leather jacket. Awful taste in clothes, but as loyal as they come.

‘See that man over there?’ I point to the figure standing near the entrance. Herald nods again. Not very talkative, this one. ‘He’s your go-to guy if you need more. But next time you pay. This is a sample.’

Herald takes the bag and thanks me. He won’t be thanking me when he’s broke with a cocaine habit, but for the time being, he’s happy.

I finally manage to make my way to Angel and his group of Epsilons. He’s drunk, I can see it from afar. A mistake. He’s the host. If there’s anyone here that should be sober, it’s him. He doesn’t notice me approaching.

‘Brother taught you well,’ I say. He looks at me in confusion, but I know he knows who I am.

‘Using the lift instead of stairs. Makes it easier to control who comes and goes. Makes crashing the party a lot harder,’ I continue. ‘But you’ve made a mistake. See, you’ve barricaded the stairs. Physically blocked them instead of allocating two more people to watch them. And now they’re a fire hazard. What happens if this little hovel of yours where to – woosh – go up in flames. Big brother would be disappointed.’

I think what I’m saying goes over his head, but he seems to get that I’m taking a piss at him. I used to do that with Luca all the time. I despised the man, but he had wit. His little brother, not so much or so it would seem. Instead of a clever comeback, Angel’s eyes narrow in anger.

‘Is this a threat?’ he asks aggressively. It’s not. At least it wasn’t supposed to be. I was just pointing out an oversight. But that _is_ a threat to him. He’s paranoid about losing what little grip on authority he has.

‘I don’t know. Is it? I’m sure your brother would know. You should ask him,’ I say nonchalantly. For the first time since he left, I wish Luca was here.

‘It’s me now, okay! I’m the head of Epsilons!’ Angel yells. He’s livid. I stepped on a sore spot, obviously. I can see some of the Epsilons step away, two of them are trying to calm him down. They’re questioning his behaviour, his decisions. His own fault. He just isn’t the type for leadership. Arthur was similar, too rash and somehow still not decisive enough. But at least Arthur was smart enough to let me lead. Angel’s too proud to live in his brother’s shadow.

‘Yeah, not for long. When’s he coming back? December?’ I provoke further. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m just low on entertainment. Or maybe my blood starts boiling, seeing someone so utterly incompetent at the head of the most funded BU fraternity.

I see Angel push away the Epsilon that’s holding him back and lunge himself toward me. He shoves me back, not hard enough to make me fall, but enough to move me. Anger flares up inside of me, but I at least have the sensibility to know that we shouldn’t do this here. Maybe he wants to appear as violent and unhinged, but I have a reputation to uphold. But before I can say or do anything, Angel’s stumbling away from me.

‘Don’t you dare push my brother!’

For fuck’s sake, John. I put my hand on John’s shoulder to try to calm him down, but he brushes me off when he sees Angel run toward him. People around us are making room and some guys are starting a chant of: ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’

Angel pushes himself against John and they tumble on the ground. It only takes a second for John to gain the upper ground, he’s always been a good brawler. I don’t doubt he’d win the fight, but I can’t have my brother assault the head of the Epsilons in public. Pride is a private business, no need for prying eyes and unnecessary complications.

‘Not here!’ I yell as I pry John off of Angel. I hold my brother back long enough for him to calm down a bit and Angel to stand up. When I think it’s safe to let John go, I take a hold of Angel’s arm with one hand, keeping the other on John’s shoulder and I lead them through the nearest door.

I let go of them when we enter the room. There’s someone here. Alfie. Surrounded by crates full of different bottles. We’ve entered his alcohol storage, it appears.

‘What the bloody fuck is going on?’ Alfie asks, eyes moving between the three of us. He doesn’t really seem surprised. He rarely does. He just looks moderately entertained and slightly miffed.

Angel and John don’t seem to notice him at all. John pushes Angel against a wall and throws a punch toward his face. I think of stopping the whole thing, but this is a personal dispute. I’ve been in a couple of brawls before. Not the most legitimate way to settle conflict, but it works. Most of the time.

‘Fucking hell, calm down,’ Alfie says with slight disapproval, but no intention of actually stopping the fight. John completely ignores him and keeps punching while Angels tries to get a hold of John’s throat. I think of intervening. They’re both pretty drunk, their punches not necessarily hitting the target all the time, but there is just as much ferocity behind them, if not more. This might not end well.

Angel screams in anger and finally manages to grab John’s throat and push him off. Angel’s nose is bleeding now, probably broken. I can sense the fight is coming to an end. A broken nose and a few bruises. Not too bad.

John stumbles away from Angel and I take hold of him. He’s huffing angrily but seems calmer now that he got it out of his system.

Suddenly, Angel reaches toward one of the boxes and takes out a bottle of rum. I instinctively step in front of my brother, who doesn’t seem to register what’s going on. Angel’s already swinging the bottle toward me when I lunge myself at his body, pushing us both on the ground. The bottle breaks against the ground, pieces of broken glass flying around us. I close my eyes to avoid injury and hope for the best.

I can hear someone gasp behind me and for a moment I think it’s John, but then that someone yells my name in panic. Grace.

I pick myself up, careful of the broken glass and move away, giving Angel room to do the same. What was he thinking, grabbing a bottle like that? He could’ve seriously hurt someone. I shake my head. Angel has some serious anger issues.

I turn to apologize to Grace. I hate that she had to see me like this. I’m not a model citizen by a long shot, but I do prefer to deal with things in a non-violent way, if at all possible. But Grace is not even looking at me. She’s looking behind me, her eyes full of fear. She’s screaming my name and running toward me.

I manage to turn around in time to see a flash of metal. A knife. Fuck. I prepare to feel a stab wound, but I don’t. Instead, I see the world spinning and then I hit the ground. All I see above me is Grace. And Angel. And a knife. And then I don’t see a knife anymore, because it’s stuck in Grace’s stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we're off to a violent start. I'll post the next chapter tomorrow.


	2. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy visits Grace in the hospital and contemplates his plan of action.

John is pacing up and down the corridor. It’s driving me crazy. I think of telling him to go back to campus, but silence might be worse.

‘You really should call the police,’ John tries again. I sigh. We’ve been through this.

‘I’m not getting the police involved. Firstly, not everything I do is strictly legal. Secondly, coppers can be bought. It’s safer for everyone involved to not meddle with the police,’ I explain again. John huffs, clearly having his own opinions on this one. It’s okay. He just doesn’t understand it yet.

‘He stabbed your girlfriend and you won’t even call the fucking police,’ John shakes his head. I don’t like what John’s implying, but I don’t answer. Angel stabbed my girlfriend.

Grace. She’s in surgery now, getting a knife taken out of her gut. She’d passed out by the time we got to the hospital, but the doctor said that she wasn’t in septic shock, which according to my meagre understanding of medicine, sounded good. I need to thank Alfie for calling the ambulance as quickly as he did.

I don’t remember much of what happened. I was fixated on Grace. My Grace. I vaguely remember Angel running out of the room when Grace hit the ground. Her pained cry is ingrained into my brain. Her blood spilling around the knife, soaking into her beige dress. Her eyes closing. For a moment I was afraid that she’s never gonna open them again. Tears started running down my cheeks as I kneeled above Grace, pleading her to stay with me. Like she had any say in that.

I remembered a promise I made. That nothing’s going to happen to me. She voiced her concerns about my line of work. She said: ‘One day, you’re going to end up in prison, or worse, dead. Killed by another dealer. Or a junkie, too desperate to get the next high. And I’ll be there, waiting for your sentence to end or standing above your grave. I need a promise you’re going to look after yourself. Make sure nothing happens to you.’

I promised. Because I was naive and I was in love. What I failed to promise is that I’ll protect her. I never expected her to suffer. She’s done nothing wrong. That knife was meant for me. No matter how stupid and convoluted Angel’s reasons were, it was supposed to be me on that surgery table. It should’ve been me.

I can feel myself spiraling. I know that it’s not my fault but that sure as fuck doesn’t stop my guilt. I stand up and leave the hospital corridors, searching for my cigarettes on the way. I feel soft packets of cocaine, weed and all sorts of pills in the inner pockets of my coat. A thought crosses my mind, but I shake it out. I’m not going to relapse. I owe Grace that much.

Once outside, I rub a cigarette across my lips before lighting it, something I’ve noticed I do when I’m nervous or distracted. Smoking helps. I calm down enough to think clearer. It’s cold outside, but it helps me focus.

Police is out of the question. I have Moss on my side, but one copper won’t save me. If I press charges, there’s no telling what the Changrettas will do. There’s rumours that they’re part of the mafia. I’m not sure if they’re true, but I know they’ve got issues and they’ve got resources. Not a good combination.

But it feels wrong, just letting it go. For fuck’s sake, my girlfriend is fighting for her fucking life right now. I shake my head before flicking my cigarette on the ground and returning to the hospital.

John is sitting on a chair now, his head in his hands. He seems so young and lost. This shouldn’t have happened. It was his first college party. He shouldn’t have to spend it in a hospital, waiting for news about his brother’s girlfriend.

‘You should go home. Get some sleep. I’ll keep you posted,’ I tell him quietly. John looks at me for a few moments, his eyes sad and tired. It hurts to see him like this. But then he finally stands up and steps up to me.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says simply, his voice barely audible.

‘It’s not your fault. You were drunk and angry. Angel shouldn’t have had a knife in the first place,’ I explain. I don’t know if John is as guilt-ridden as I am, but he should know I don’t blame him in the slightest. He was just defending my honour.

‘He’s gonna pay for what he did,’ John swears and I can see his brow furrowing in anger. I should calm him down, tell him to let it be, but I know that’d just rile him up. Instead I nod and break eye contact. John clenches his fists and leaves.

I am left alone for a few minutes. I try to keep my head blank, not think that the surgery is taking awfully long. Then a nurse enters the waiting room. I stand up and prepare for the worst.

‘Mr. Shelby?’ the nurse asks. Why is she asking? There’s just me here. But I nod anyway.

‘We’ve performed emergency stab wound surgery on Miss Burgess,’ she says calmly. I swear she’s speaking slowly just to torture me.

‘She’s still under anaesthesia, but she’s stable. She’s suffered from acute anaemia, but she is going to be okay,’ the nurse smiles at me. A heavy load rolls off my chest and I don’t have the energy to fight back a smile. She’ll live. That’s all I care about.

‘I suggest you go home and get some sleep. We will call you when Miss Burgess comes to, if you’d want that,’ the nurse offers.

‘Yes, please,’ I agree and tell her my number. Now that the adrenalin is washing out of my body, I’m starting to realize just how tired I am. The nurse leaves and I am left alone on the hospital corridor. For a moment, I feel utterly confused. The world around me seems surreal. Why am I here? What twisted, convoluted turn of events has led me to this situation? I gather my thoughts for a few seconds before leaving.

The way back to the campus is a blur. I could’ve called a taxi, but the cold feels good. It feels as if I’m drunk. My mind is not in the present, my feet are moving on their own.

The Pi Beta house is eerily quiet when I’m back. The boys are either asleep or still at the party.

‘Tommy?’ I hear a quiet voice from the common room. John’s head peaks from around the corner before I get a chance to answer.

‘She’s okay,’ I confirm. I know that’s what he’s waiting for. I don’t say it, but I’m grateful he’s stayed up. Seeing someone cares and saying it out loud makes it somehow feel more real. John nods and disappears down the corridor toward his room.

I go upstairs and collapse in my bed. But I can’t fall asleep. My mind keeps replaying the stabbing. At first, I try to fight it, try to distract my thoughts, but then I give in. I’m not analysing it, it’s just there, in my mind, intrusive and unavoidable, the memory of the worst moment of my life. Every loop, the blood is redder and the cries are louder and I am vaguely aware that I’m quietly sobbing.

Eventually, sleep takes me, but when I wake up to the sound of a vibrating phone, I feel like shit. There’s a moment, a blessed moment, before I remember the events of yesterday. And then I remember and suddenly, I’m awake. I answer the phone. It’s an unknown number.

‘Hello? We’re calling from the Queen Elizabeth Hospital. Are we talking to Mr. Shelby?’ the voice on the line says. I push any expectations aside. This could either be good or really bad.

‘Yes,’ I answer, my voice cracking. It’s then that I realize how dry my mouth is.

‘You asked to be notified when Miss Brugess wakes up. She’s awake and has asked to see you. She’s been moved to Floor 5,’ the nurse explains and I let out a sigh of relief. Grace is awake.

I thank the nurse and get ready. I stop in front of a mirror. I look like a corpse. There’re dark bags under my eyes and my hair is all over the place, but I don’t have the time to worry about that. I practically run to the hospital, smoking a cigarette on the way, just to have something to do with my hands.

Once I arrive to the hospital, the nurses tell me to wait. Apparently, Grace’s uncle, her closest living relative, is with her now and he doesn’t want me there. That doesn’t surprise me. He never approved of our relationship. He doesn’t know all the details about what I do, but he doesn’t need to. He sees the cigarettes and the alcohol and draws his conclusions.

I wait in front of the room for fifteen minutes, before the doors open and Mr. Curran steps out. He’s not even trying to hide his contempt toward me.

‘You did this to her, pikey,’ he spits when he walks past me. I don’t answer, I know better than to provoke him. I’ve gotten used to the slurs; they don’t bother me anymore. What hurts is that I know he just uses them to get under my skin. But I don’t let it. I slowly step through the doors.

‘Grace?’ I say carefully when I finally get to her room. She’s lying in the bed by the window with closed eyes and unaware of my presence. Several tubes are running in and out of her skin. She opens her eyes when she hears me and smiles at me. It’s a reassuring, but sad smile. It makes me smile back, although I can feel it. The tension. It feels like I’m approaching a stranger. What do I say to her? Sorry for getting you stabbed?

‘Hey, Tommy,’ Grace says and reaches her hand toward me. I take it and hold it between my own. She’s warm to the touch. I sort of expected her to be cold.

For a moment, I just stand there and look at her. Even in a hospital bed, she’s beautiful.

‘How are you?’ I ask. It’s a fucking stupid question. She’s just been stabbed. How the fuck do I think she is?

‘I’ve been lucky,’ Grace answers. Lucky. I wouldn’t call it that, but I know what she means. This could’ve ended a lot worse. But the truth of the matter is, this shouldn’t have happened in the first place. I shake my head and look away.

‘You can’t change what happened,’ Grace reminds me. It’s new to me, this feeling. I try to prepare for everything, take it all in stride. Take what happens and turn it to my advantage. That’s how I got as far as I have. But nothing could’ve prepared me for this. There is no way anything about this can in any way be good. So, yes, I would very much like to go back in time and change what happened.

‘I know, Grace,’ I answer. ‘But I should’ve kept you safe. The fact that I couldn’t…’

I expect Grace to tell me it’s okay, that I did my best. Instead, she stays quiet for a few seconds. A feeling of dread fills me the longer she’s silent.

‘Tommy, I’m transferring to a different uni. To New York,’ Grace says then. I look back at her, but I say nothing. What can I say? I try to wrap my head around what she’s saying and my brain instantly starts searching for the best way to convince her to stay.

‘It’s for safety. I have relatives there and…’ Grace elaborates and something akin to panic starts filling my chest.

‘You don’t have to leave. This won’t happen again. It was a mistake. They weren’t targeting you. It was supposed to be me,’ I start saying, words escaping my mouth without forethought. I’m trying to rationalize the situation, make her understand that she’s safe.

‘I don’t feel safe, Tommy!’ Grace interrupts my thoughts. I notice her ragged breathing and then I notice my hand wrapped around her arm. I immediately let go, but it’s too late. I have failed to make her feel safe. Just the thought of it hurts. And really, nothing else matters. I can see that she’s made up her mind. Because I failed her.

‘You’re being targeted, Tommy. You have enemies,’ Grace continues and shakes her head as if she’s trying to comprehend the reality of my world. ‘College students don’t use this language. College students are not supposed to watch over their shoulder. They don’t deal with shady contacts. They don’t have hidden compartments in their wardrobes for their stash.’

I look at the ground because I know she has a point. I can hear it in her voice, the silent plea of ‘why can’t you just be normal’.

‘College students are not supposed to get stabbed at a party, Tommy,’ Grace finishes and closes her eyes. A tear starts trailing down her cheek and I instinctively brush it away. She flinches at first but lets me do it.

‘I’m sorry,’ is all I say, because I am. I’m sorry that I let this happen to her. I’m sorry that my world is not compatible with hers. I know what she wants me to say. That I’ll stop and be normal. I’m sorry that I can’t say that.

‘You could come with me, you know? To New York. Get away from here and start over,’ she finally says it, but there is no hope in her voice. She knows the answer. I nod in acknowledgment and give her a quick kiss on the cheek. She doesn’t flinch.

‘I’ll flip a coin,’ I promise. It’s how we used to settle dilemmas. When we couldn’t decide where to eat, or what film to watch. Grace smiles at me, that sad, heartbroken smile. And I know that she knows that it’s over.

Outside of the room, I find a coin and flip it. Heads. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Not when the decision is already made.

\---

It seems the majority of the Pi Betas are still in bed when I get back. I’m glad. I really don’t want to talk to the boys right now. I just want to get to my room, smoke, maybe open a bottle of whiskey and get drunk in the middle of the day. Something to stop me thinking, just for a little while.

However, when I ascend the stairs, I quickly notice the doors to my room are slightly ajar. Carefully, I approach them. I can hear movement inside. I angle myself so I can peak through the crack. I see a large-framed man next to my desk.

‘He better fucking appreciate it,’ the intruder murmurs and I recognize his voice instantly.

‘Hello, Alfie,’ I say as I open the door and walk in, eying the bloke suspiciously. Alfie quickly turns to face me, evidently not expecting me to return so soon.

‘Tommy!’ Alfie greets me, opening his arms as if he’s offering me a hug. ‘Tommy, how are you? I heard your girl is better now that she’s not impaled anymore.’

When I make no attempt to move toward him, Alfie walks up to me and takes my hands.

‘Come here, will you sit down?’ Alfie guides me to my bed and sits me down. I don’t know what Alfie is doing here and, to be fair, I don’t have any illusions that he doesn’t have an agenda. I could just tell him to leave. I should. But I don’t. Because for whatever reason, I’m glad he’s here. Whereas the Pi Betas would fuss around me, asking questions and making sure their boss is okay, Alfie will just find something to ramble about and distract me.

‘So, what is your business here?’ I ask instead as Alfie turns to my desk.

‘I brought you something,’ Alfie announces, turns back to me and hands me a card. It just says ‘My sympathies, Alfie’. As I look up, Alfie is handing me a bottle of white rum and a single hyacinth.

‘Didn’t have time to go to the florist so I just nicked one of these,’ he tells me, as I take the gifts. I instinctually smell it. It smells nice. Thankfully, Alfie either doesn’t notice or doesn’t comment on it. But at this point, I don’t care if people see me smelling the fucking flowers. I’ve learned to cherish what little positivity crosses my path.

Alfie rummages through my drawers and fishes out a glass I keep there, next to a half-finished bottle of whiskey. I don’t know how Alfie knows where I keep the glass, but I don’t ask. He takes the rum from me, opens it and pours in a shot-worth of alcohol.

‘To Grace,’ he says as he hands the glass back to me. I nod thoughtfully and down it. To Grace. To a safe trip to New York. To a cold bed and lonely mornings.

I know Alfie senses the tension in the room. He puts the rum on the desk, sits on the desk chair and spins around to face me.

‘I used to have a friend, right. A young Jewish boy that got stabbed. He was walking down a street in London and he got stabbed. For no fucking reason, right. Just walking down Egbert Street, three fucking blocks from his home. There. Stabbed and mugged. Died before the ambulance got there.’

Alfie launches into his story and I pour myself more rum. His words drown out my thoughts and for a moment, I imagine this poor bloke getting stabbed. This random guy instead of Grace.

‘And you know what the worst part of the whole fucking thing is? We never found the scum that did it. They still, to this day, walk the streets of London.’

Alfie shakes his head and I can see his eyes darken. He goes on to describe what he’d do to his friend’s killers if he ever found them. Gruesome stuff. He’s a rather violent person. But it makes me think. Would getting revenge for Grace’s stabbing make me feel better? Would it fill the void that Grace’s decision has made in my chest? Probably not, but it’s worth a try. If nothing else, to distract myself, to help me get over it, help me get closure.

‘Alfie?’ I stop him in the middle of his description of some medieval-sounding torture mechanism. He looks at me as if he’s just noticed my presence.

‘Yes, mate?’ he prompts me to continue.

‘I am going to the police. Try to get some justice done,’ I decide. ‘And I am going to need people to testify.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there's fluff somewhere down the line.


	3. Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy starts planning his next move but it seems things just can't go smoothly for him.

I almost forget it’s Sunday afternoon. Days don’t seem like much of anything now. I spent most of the Saturday researching judicial systems and searching for a lawyer. It’s not until John shows up in my room, asking how come I’m not ready yet, that I remember that it’s a fucking Sunday. It’s time for the Shelby family meeting.

I used to initiate fortnightly family meetings back in the day, mostly to distribute money to my siblings. It’s become a thing, us meeting up, now mostly to catch up and discuss the future. We’ve figured out we’re stronger together and we can trust in family. I feel a tang of shame for having forgotten about it.

I make myself presentable and leave with John. We soon get to The Garrison. It’s a local bar near the campus where we’ve been meeting for past several years. The bartender, Harry, already knows me and he knows we’re coming. He said once, that the day my family decides to stop with the meetings is the day he’ll retire.

When we arrive, we’re ten minutes late. Aunt Polly, Ada and Arthur are sitting around the table. There is a bottle of whiskey already on the table. Between the four adults and a glass for Ada, one bottle is just right.

‘You’re late,’ Arthur comments as we enter.

‘Well, a lot has happened,’ I retort, draping my coat on the hanger.

‘So we’ve heard,’ Polly says sadly. John’s told me he contacted the others. Good. I wouldn’t have bothered. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Arthur nods to add his bit to the sentiment. I nod in acknowledgement. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, it’s that I know they care without them telling me.

‘We need to talk about that,’ I say as I sit down at the table and pour myself some whiskey.

‘Do you need me to talk to the bloke?’ Arthur asks and downs his whiskey. I shake my head. I know what he means by ‘talk’. Arthur’s always been a bit violent and unstable. I’ve supported his delve into boxing, thinking that it might help him relieve his aggression, but instead, it’s just made him a better fighter and inflated his ego. Now he goes around, seemingly searching for a fight. As long as he’s asking, it’s fine. I’m just afraid that one day, a random bloke will end up in a hospital because of him. But there is no way I’m letting him anywhere near Angel. His methods lead to more trouble than good.

‘There’s no need,’ I affirm, making sure Arthur understands. ‘I’m going to press charges.’

Polly looks at me in surprise and Arthur seems confused for a moment, as if the idea hadn’t even crossed his mind.

‘You’re a drug dealer,’ Arthur reminds me in a whisper. I sigh. It’s a risk, I know that. The thought of making myself known to the police in any way does not excite me. But I’ve committed to it now. The Changrettas hold way too much power around here and someone needs to hold them accountable. And then there’s Grace. She’s is leaving anyway, I know that, but she should at least have justice.

‘I’ll be careful,’ I promise. ‘I’ve got Moss on my side and once we have testimonies and evidence ready, the whole thing moves on to court.’

‘Do you really believe that courts are any less corrupt?’ Polly asks.

‘Changrettas aren’t powerful enough to have judges on their payroll. They might have better lawyers than us, but evidence is overwhelmingly on our side,’ I explain. Polly still doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t press me further.

‘What do you need us to do?’ John asks. At least someone isn’t questioning my decisions.

‘I’ll handle the police and the courts, but they aren’t our enemy here. The Changrettas are. They take everything personally and they will be coming after us. They have money, they have connections and they have a name. People are scared of them and rightfully so. Angel is unpredictable, but he’s not a threat. However, I am suspecting Luca will come back to clean up the mess. He’s the brains of the family and the one that you should look out for. Don’t trust anyone. And most importantly, don’t talk about this. The longer Changrettas don’t know about our intentions, the longer we can work undisturbed.’

Everyone looks at me attentively and John nods. Ada sighs loudly.

‘What does this have to do with us?’ she says and looks at me challengingly. She doesn’t seem angry, just annoyed. ‘It sucks that your girlfriend got stabbed and the guy who did it should definitely be arrested, but I haven’t done anything. Neither have Arthur or Polly. It’s not fair that we have to suffer the consequences of your little dispute with the other frat houses.’

Ada and her idealistic views. Yes, I’d much rather not involve my family in my personal affairs and it’s not fair, but it’s not like I have a choice. Real world doesn’t work that way.

‘I wish I wouldn’t have to involve you, but for Changrettas, one’s family is one entity and my dispute might just become our dispute. Maybe nothing will happen. But I have to warn you. This is about so much more than just frat houses,’ I explain, trying to convey the gravity of the situation.

Ada sighs again, but she seems to resign into begrudging acceptance. Polly breaks the tension by bringing up Finn’s excellent grades. He’s living with Polly, as of now, but he’ll be coming to campus in a few years, when he joins the secondary school.

The atmosphere relaxes and I’m grateful for it. Polly’s always been the most intuitive one of our family. She keeps me grounded, sometimes, when I get out of hand. She practically raised me and my siblings once our father left. Our mother died soon after Finn was born and our father didn’t exactly treat her or us right. He was in and out of our lives, only showing up for short periods to fuck our mother, get drunk and beat us up. Aunt Polly took care of us when our mother was too depressed and our father was absent or drunk. She was the one bright light in our childhood and while most of us are pretty independent now, we’ll never be able to repay her.

The family meeting winds down and we don’t speak about the Changrettas anymore, but there is this air of heaviness around us. When we leave, I look at Ada and hope her naïve idealism somehow holds true.

\---

‘It’s worse than last year, but it should still be profitable,’ Johnny Dogs explains and hands me a list of all clients from the Ape. After the stabbing, Johnny Dogs offered to go with me to the hospital, but I told him to stay at the party and cover for me while I’m gone. Having my business suffer would just make things harder in the long run. The Ape is when we get most new clients and we can’t let that go to waste.

The list is visibly shorter than last year. What happened to Grace has probably sobered people enough to turn them off of drugs. I recognize some of the names. The regulars. I find several names with small stars next to them, Harold’s among them. The first-timers. There’s a bunch of names that sound vaguely familiar, but I don’t bother remembering. The ones that only go wild for the Ape. Altogether we sold £3684 worth of drugs, not counting the samples that were given for free. Less than last year when we managed over £5000. I invested around £2500 into stock for the Ape and given that we managed to sell less than half, we should be fine.

‘Understandable,’ I nod and hand the list back to Johnny. ‘We’ll manage. I’ll have John scout out potential clients. I’m getting too old for that. He has more contact with the first years. Do you have the leftovers here?’

Johnny nods and hands me a black garbage bag. I look inside to find bags of pills and other goods neatly packed and marked with a stream of letters that only mean something to me and Johnny Dogs. Everything seems to be in order. I nod and put the bag down.

‘And the money?’ I ask before noticing Johnny Dogs has already put the cash on the table. I count through it. Not that I doubt Johnny for a second, but I need to have things under control. Johnny patiently waits for me to finish counting. £3864. I nod and count off to £780 and hand it to Johnny. 20 %, as we agreed and something extra for a job well done. Johnny smiles and pockets the money. I put the rest into my portable safe. That’s business done.

I pull out the rum bottle that Alfie got me and two glasses and pour myself and Johnny a glass.

‘Good job,’ I tell him and raise my glass.

‘What would you do without me?’ Johnny points out and smiles. I smile back. I remember John’s comment on the way back when I told him I have a meeting with Johnny Dogs. ‘You should show her some respect. At least wait until she’s out of the hospital before you start dealing again,’ he said. But he doesn’t understand. Work keeps me distracted, makes me feel productive, holds me back from spiralling into a pit of overthinking and despair. If I don’t deal drugs, I’ll do them.

My burner phone rings. It’s Moss. I furrow my brow.

‘Moss?’ I answer the call. He’s a friend of mine who got onto the force a few years back. I helped him out a shady dealer once and in return, he hides me from the police. It’s a neat deal. But it also means that we don’t spend time together, just in case one of his co-workers gets suspicious. Which means that whenever he’s calling, it’s important.

‘We’ve been tipped off. By Luca Changretta. A squad just departed, you need to evac ASAP,’ Moss says in a hushed voice. ‘I’m sorry, but I couldn’t just tell them to not go.’

‘It’s okay,’ I say, my mind reeling, trying to come up with a plan. ‘Thank you.’

‘Good luck,’ Moss says and terminates the call. There are so many questions, but I don’t have time for them now. I focus on the problem at hand.

‘The police are on their way. We need to pack. Now,’ I say and take a key out of my portable safe. I take the key to the wardrobe and unlock it. Johnny Dogs walks over with the black garbage bag. I push all the coats and shirts to the side, pull a bunch of crates out and hook my fingers into the small holes on the bottom of the wardrobe. I pull the fake bottom up to reveal the stash. Johnny helps me throw everything into the bag. In the end, it’s almost full.

‘Where will you go?’ Johnny Dogs asks, but I just shake my head. It’s best not to tell him, just in case the coppers get out of hand and decide to force some kind of an answer out of him.

‘I’ll find some place, don’t worry about me,’ I say. ‘Tell the Pi Betas I’ve gone out of town to visit Grace’s parents or something. Keep an eye out and write down the names of everyone who talks to the police.’

Johnny nods and carries the bag to the door. I take my portable safe and look around the room. There’s a bottle of rum on the desk and a bottle of whiskey in the drawer. I take both of them and give them to Johnny Dogs.

‘Hide these,’ I command and he nods again.

‘I’ll take it from here,’ I add. ‘I owe you one.’

Johnny Dogs leaves and I take the garbage bag and start carrying it down the hallway like some sort of a perverted Santa Claus. In my mind, I’m thinking about where to go. I can’t go off campus with a garbage bag full of drugs. I also can’t just go to John’s, he’s in the same building and they might search him as well. They won’t let me in at Ada’s, she’s in an all-girls dorm full of minors. At the moment, I can only find one solution, which I don’t find particularly appealing, but it’ll have to do.

By the time I reach the Alpha Beta Sigma house, I calm down a bit. Enough to assess the situation. So, the Changrettas have obviously always known about my side hustle. But we’ve had an agreement. Not an official one, but it always stood: we don’t tell on each other. The Changrettas have a well-known record of bribery and forgery of documents and while they don’t deal out on the open as much as me or Alfie, we let them be and they let us be. And we open the doors of our fraternities for each other’s business.

Not anymore, apparently. The Changrettas have broken the agreement and they wanted me to know, otherwise they would’ve tipped the police anonymously. But they must’ve felt threatened to just go out on the limb and start a war between us. And the only reason I can find for them to do that is if they knew that I’m planning to sue Angel. Which means someone told Luca. In my head I go through everyone who knew, but the list is short enough. My family. And Alfie.

I look at his name on my burner phone and my need for a place to stay outweighs my hatred for his guts. I press call.

‘Tommy, sweetheart, shall I send Ollie to help you carry the drugs?’ Alfie answers. I can hear the smugness and it makes me want to punch a wall.

‘How did you know it was me?’ I ask. I never called him with my burner. It could’ve been anyone.

‘Lucky guess,’ Alfie replies. ‘So, you need a place to stay?’

I hate being played like this. He knows exactly what he did and why I’m here and he has the audacity to be this fucking smug about it.

‘Yes,’ I hiss begrudgingly.

‘Right, right. Go to the back door. I’ll send Ollie to open them for you,’ Alfie explains. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

Alfie terminates the call and I find the back door. Indeed, a few minutes later, a lean frat boy opens the door and nods as I enter. I’ve seen him before; he’s often helping Alfie distribute booze at the parties.

We walk through the building and up the stairs.

‘If we wanted to use the lift, we would’ve had to cross the common room. Given your circumstance, it’s best people don’t see you here,’ Ollie explains. I’m not sure how much he knows, but I trust Alfie’s judgment of character.

Once we get to what appears to be Alfie’s room, Ollie knocks twice and opens the doors.

‘Mr. Shelby is here,’ Ollie announces. He makes it sound so formal, like I’m entering a meeting of some sorts.

‘Thank you, Ollie,’ Alfie says and looks at me with a smile. His room is much bigger than mine, I notice. Ollie leaves to go to his room, presumably, and I am left in the doorway with Alfie still smiling at me.

‘Come on in, come on in,’ Alfie invites me and gestures around his room. I remind myself that he cannot be trusted, he’s the one that told the Changrettas about my plan.

‘You can put the drugs into the oven,’ Alfie says dismissingly and sits back down at his desk. I look around the room in confusion. There isn’t a semblance of a kitchen in here, let alone an oven. Alfie apparently notices my confusion and points to the door on the side of the room. I open them to reveal a closet, mostly full of suits and coats. I push them aside.

‘6134,’ I hear Alfie from his room. Indeed, I find a number pad in the right corner and punch in the numbers. There’s a click and the back wall of the closet moves outward a bit. I pull on it and it opens into a large storage room, full of bottles and crates of all sorts of booze. I shake my head. The oven for Alfie’s bread. I swear, he’s such a kid.

I deposit the garbage bag behind a couple of crates so that it’s not visible from the doorway and leave the storage room, closing the secret door behind me. I push the portable safe under Alfie’s bed.

‘Why did you tell the Changrettas that I’m planning to go after them?’ I ask Alfie, who turns his chair toward me and takes off his glasses.

‘Because, you see, they’re paying me to spy on you,’ Alfie says nonchalantly. It takes me a second to understand what he means. So, he’s being payed to forward information? Does he expect me to offer more? To pay for his allegiance?

‘Luca showed up a few hours ago. And he said: ‘Alfie, you look like a man who would appreciate some money. And we will give you money if you keep an eye on Tommy and tell us what he’s up to.’ So, I took the fucking money and told them about your plan. That’s fucking business,’ Alfie elaborates, trying to drive home the fact that his deal wasn’t personal.

‘Why are you telling me this?’ I ask. Seems like a weird way to go about spying on someone.

‘Because I’m not fucking stupid,’ Alfie replies. ‘I harbour no illusions that this little conflict of yours is going to end peacefully. One of yous is going to fucking prison and I don’t think the school board is going to look fondly on that. So, my guess is that by the end of the year, Birmingham University is going to be down one fraternity. Now, I could take the fucking mafia money, stay on their good side and help them tear you down. But that would mean that their dirty money-grabbing hands would now have one less fraternity to take from, which would, in the long run, leave me in a very unfortunate situation. So, I decided to help the fucking underdog. That’s you.’

‘And how exactly does sending police on my trail help me?’ I ask demandingly. What he’s saying makes sense, but I am being cautious. It’s hard to be cautious, though, when he’s the only option I have. I want to take it for granted, just because it’s easier that way.

‘Well, for one, I didn’t call the police, Luca did. Which tells you three things, yeah, an awful lot for one phone call. Firstly, right, the fact that Luca even came to me means that he’s afraid. Which means you have a chance against him. Secondly, Luca doesn’t know who your boy in the police is, otherwise he would’ve made damn fucking sure that he never found out about the investigation, right? And finally, this is fucking Birmingham. Drug dealers get tipped off all the time and the police, yeah? They do fucking nothing. Not unless there’s some other crime involved. Which means Luca has contacts high up in the police, most likely the copper who instigated the fucking investigation. And that’s important, yeah, cause we can’t win this with a stabbed girl and a bunch of witnesses. No, we need to sever the dragon’s head, so to speak. We need to find out who exactly the Changrettas have on their payroll and eliminate them from the picture. Legally, of course. I would not encourage violence now, would I?’

Alfie really does sound like he’s encouraging violence right now, but I don’t comment on it. He has a point. A fair trial won’t work when the police, and maybe even the court, are bought by one of the parties. I nod.

‘So you will be giving Luca false information while you take his money. But how do you know that Luca won’t just send the cops here if he knows where I am?’ I ask. ‘Wasn’t that his plan all along? To have me arrested so that I’m out of the game?’

‘Well, he’s just gonna have to change his plan, won’t he? I have people watching the police and he knows that. He wouldn’t dare send them here,’ Alfie says just as the doors to the room open. In comes a distressed-looking Ollie.

‘The police are coming!’ he declares. For the first time this evening, Alfie doesn’t look smug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look, more cliffhangers! Hope you enjoy the story :D


	4. Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy meets Alfie's friend and learns the name of his enemy.

I am hiding in the closet. The oven, to be exact. In these past few minutes I’ve been here, I’ve realized one thing. In a situation where you cannot do anything, panic is utterly self-destructive. The space I’m in seems too small, like it’s getting smaller by the second. I know it’s not but my claustrophobic arse doesn’t.

I try to focus. I look at the box of gin, behind which I’ve hidden my stash. You cannot see it without moving the box. But it hardly matters when a policeman would find me locked in someone else’s secret closet. Maybe I could convince the cops that Alfie’s kidnapped me. It’s not that far-fetched, he’s a strong and well-built man, he could’ve easily manhandled me.

It’s been minutes of complete silence. I wonder what would happen if the cops arrest Alfie. I’d be stuck in here, with no food. I could probably live off alcohol and drugs for a while.

I take the cigarette box out of my coat pocket and spin it in hand. I’m not stupid enough to light a cigarette in a confined space full of alcohol, but I need something to fidget with. I start counting the bottles on the shelves. First all the clear spirits, then all the dark ones, then all the wine.

I count through it twice before I hear the door to the room opening. I hold my breath.

‘That kid better have enough brain in his noggin to stay fucking quiet,’ I hear Alfie’s voice and I exhale.

‘To be frank, I doubt he’ll stay quiet. He seemed pretty scared,’ another voice replies. I recognize it as Ollie’s.

‘See, that’s my problem, Ollie, innit? I’m not fucking scary enough. Had I been more strict, right, more scary. Had I been more of a twat, that kid, yeah, that kid would’ve been more scared of me than the fucking coppers, right? And we wouldn’t have this fucking problem,’ Alfie says. He sounds angry. Genuinely angry. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him actually angry. And I’m pretty sure I don’t want to.

I can hear the closet door opening and scramble to my feet. Alfie types in the code and walks away. I cautiously open the door and close it behind me. Alfie is pacing up and down the room while Ollie stands at the door looking concerned.

‘What happened?’ I dare ask. I’ve gathered small bits from their conversation. The coppers have apparently taken a kid from the Alphas and he’s supposed to be quiet about something.

‘You are a fucking moron, that’s what’s fucking happened!’ Alfie yells and it almost makes me flinch. There’s this untamed rage in his eyes and for a moment, I’m afraid he’ll just come up to me and punch me. But he doesn’t. He just stares at me unblinkingly and it unnerves me.

‘Harold Hancox! Sounds familiar?’ Alfie asks. It doesn’t take me long to remember. That kid from the Ape, the one who wanted cocaine.

‘Yeah, I remember him. Did the police take him?’ I ask and Alfie looks at me like I’m stupid.

‘Yes, the coppers took him. And you have three guesses as to why,’ Alfie says coldly. I don’t have to guess. Because I suddenly put the picture together. When I left in a hurry, I left the piece of paper with his name on the desk. I don’t know why I even kept that demand paper. The police found it and took Harold for questioning. And he’s scared and the police are ruthless and manipulative - a combination that will undoubtedly end with the police getting my description. They won’t need to find my drugs if they have him as a witness. Soon, I will be a wanted man.

‘Fuck,’ I whisper and Alfie’s features soften a bit when he sees my distress. I try to compose myself. This is not the time or place for panic. I can panic later. Quietly. By myself.

‘Change of plans. You’re staying here,’ Alfie decides and nods to himself. His decision baffles me at first. I thought he’d just throw me out, lose his connection to me as soon as possible. But then I get it: Luca is cleansing the Birmingham University frat scene. He has police wrapped around his finger and as soon as I’m out of the picture, Alfie’s on the table. The only way to prevent this is if we work together. Now, I could leave, find someplace safe in the city, but Alfie’s is safe. Luca apparently trusts him, otherwise the police would be banging on the closet door right about now.

‘I need to call Moss, find out who Luca’s copper is. And I need to call Johnny Dogs, tell him to hide. Hancox has his description as well,’ I say and pull out my burner phone. There’re two missed calls, one number I recognize as Johnny Dogs’ and the other as Polly’s.

I call Johnny first and quickly explain the situation. He’s going to hide, but he doesn’t tell me where. Smart of him. Then I call Moss. He doesn’t pick up. I call Polly. She picks up instantly.

‘Tommy, what’s happened? John told me there was police looking for you,’ Polly asks. She sounds panicked and a little bit angry, like all this is could’ve been avoided if I was a tad more careful. Okay, maybe it could’ve been, but it’s not like it’s all my fault.

‘Luca told on me. I took the stash and hid. I’m going to lay low for a while. I turned off my other phone. If it’s an emergency, call the burner. Tell John. And others if they ask. If the police come, I’ve gone out of town and you don’t know exactly where,’ I tell her. If there’s anyone in my family I’d trust to run things while I’m gone, it’s her.

‘Okay, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I trust your judgement on this, but for god’s sake, please try not to involve the rest of the family,’ Polly pleads and for a moment I wish I could assure her everything will be alright.

‘I’m not planning to,’ is all I can promise. The silence on the other end of the line tells me all I need to know.

‘Alright. Take care,’ Polly finally says.

‘Yeah,’ I reply and terminate the line.

Alfie is sitting on his bed and Ollie’s gone during this time. The image seems weirdly comfortable. It’s like Alfie’s been my roommate all my life, but in reality, I’ve only ever been to his room tonight. Maybe it’s just the stress. I need a cigarette.

‘Whoa, whoa, don’t open the window, mate,’ Alfie stands up and walks toward me when he sees my intentions.

‘It’ll only be a minute,’ I dismiss him and roll my eyes. But just as I take a cigarette out of my pocket, Alfie takes it out of my hands. A sudden wave of anger washes through me. Who does he think he is? Can’t people just let the man smoke in peace?

‘Luca’s not fucking stupid, mate. He might trust me, because it makes things easier for him, right, but he is very likely keeping an eye on this house. And I’m not going to let you give yourself away just because you need that fucking smoke stick between your lips all the fucking time. I swear you’re like a fucking coal factory,’ Alfie explains, wagging a cigarette at me like a strict mom scolding her child. He then reaches into my inner coat pocket where I keep my cigarettes, pulls out the box, puts the cigarette back in and returns it to my pocket, all without braking eye contact. His gaze is heavy and it feels like it’s trying to tell me something. My heart starts racing, I don’t know why. I look away.

‘Fine, I won’t smoke then,’ I give in. He has a point about the window.

‘Good boy,’ Alfie nods and goes back to his bed. I look around the room. My prison cell for the foreseeable future. I just need to wait for this thing to blow over. When I feel safe enough, I’ll leave for the city and hide somewhere safer. But I need to wait at least a few days for the moon to wane. Not much difference on the lit-up streets, but I’ve been a drug dealer long enough to know the back alleys of this town well.

‘Give me a hand, will you?’ Alfie then says and looks at me expectantly. He’s standing by the bed and pulling on the sheets. I realize that he wants to change them and it suddenly dawns on me: there’s only one bed.

\---

I can’t fall asleep. Not that I expected to be able to, but once in a while, I’d love to see my brain prove me wrong.

Alfie is curled up next to me, sound asleep and snoring quietly. It’s bothered me, at first. His presence, not his snoring. But I figured I don’t mind it. It grounds me, calms me down. I’m used to being alone at night, wide awake, staring at walls. I’ve accepted that. Now I’m awake, but I’m not covered in cold sweat and my heart isn’t racing. I’m just awake and mildly inconvenienced by my inability to fall asleep.

After what seems to be almost an hour of trying to fall asleep, I quietly get out of bed and look around the room to let my eyes get used to the darkness. A cup of tea would do me good, I decide. I know it’s foolish, that I shouldn’t be out and about. The Alpha’s are handpicked, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be bought. I don’t trust anyone besides Alfie and Ollie.

Nevertheless, I find my way to the communal kitchen, dressed only in my boxers and my coat. The kitchen is next to the common rooms and it’s much larger than the kitchen in Pi Beta. I find an electric kettle and put on some water.

Black Tea, Irish Morning, fucking Twinings Earl Grey… I hear the main door open and I freeze. I quickly hide in a shadowy corner so that I’m not visible from the door, but there’s not much I can do about the boiling kettle.

Pat, pat, pat, pat… I can clearly hear a dog and it’s coming toward me. I have no idea whose dog this is or what it’s doing here. Pat, pat, pat… A giant mastiff rounds the corner and waddles straight to me. I try to be as still and quiet as I can.

‘Cyril! Cyril, come back here! You’ve already had your dinner!’ I can hear someone call from the kitchen door. I recognize Ollie’s voice. I exhale loudly. Since when have I become so paranoid?

‘Who’s there?’ I hear Ollie ask.

‘Just me, Ollie, just me,’ I say and step into view. ‘You want some tea?’

Ollie looks at me in confusion before he remembers why I’m here and nods slowly.

‘Is camomile okay?’ I ask when I get back to the kettle.

‘Sure,’ Ollie agrees and sits at the table. The dog sits next to him. I bring us tea and sit next to him. As soon as I sit down Cyril runs up to me and starts sniffing. I divert all my attention to the dog.

‘I didn’t know you had a dog,’ I say to Ollie once Cyril has effectively slobbered all over my coat.

‘It’s Alfie’s, technically,’ Ollie answers.

‘Alfie has a dog?’ I ask in surprise and Ollie nods. I don’t know why that surprises me. I just never pictured him going to the park and throwing sticks and picking up dog shit. Though it seems Ollie does that. In the middle of the night apparently.

‘Pets are not allowed on campus, though,’ I state. Not in a condescending tone, it’s just an observation.

‘I know,’ Ollie replies, a small blush on his cheeks, like he’s just been caught. ‘That’s why we walk him at night and keep him out of sight. Not even all the Alphas know about him. But Alfie insists we keep Cyril.’

The dog wags his tail at the mention of his name and slobbers some more. I keep petting him.

‘There you are,’ I hear from behind me and Cyril runs happily toward the voice. Alfie’s large frame fills the doorway. Against my better judgement, I smile at him. I blame it on the dog for putting me in a good mood.

‘Sorry, I couldn’t fall asleep, so I went to make some tea,’ I say. Why am I apologizing for leaving the bed? It’s not like I need a reason to get out of bed.

‘I see you met Cyril,’ Alfie comments and fondly wrangles the dog. Cyril starts barking, but Alfie quickly shushes him. I can see now that the two of them share a special bond.

‘Yeah, he’s a good boy,’ I reply solemnly. Maybe my days with the Alphas won’t be so bad after all, if I get Cyril to keep me company.

‘That he is, that he is,’ Alfie agrees and his eyes fixate on distant nothingness as they often do when he’s thinking of a story to tell. I used to despise these stories when I first met Alfie. It was business and I was paranoid. I was constantly on the lookout for hidden motives and signs of betrayal. I used to think he told stories to throw me off, unnerve me. To a degree, maybe he did, but mostly, he just loved telling stories. And he had a knack for it. Still does. I’ve grown rather fond of his stories.

Alfie helps himself to a cup of tea and sits down across from me.

‘When I first found Cyril, I was fifteen and he was just a pup. Looking at this fucking beast, you wouldn’t believe how tiny he was. And the poor little thing was being chased, right, by four grown up strays. He was stumbling over his little legs. He hasn’t even learned how to fucking walk properly and these fucking mongrels were toying with him and then one of that fucking scum started mauling him. The yelp this poor thing made, it fucking broke my heart, yeah, broke it right in half. No man has ever broken my heart the way Cyril has.’

Alfie pets the dog affectionately. I can see in his eyes that he’s reliving the story as he tells it. I can picture him, walking down a street or another, seeing this pack of stray dogs attacking a defenceless pup and fending off the beasts to save it. It’s a poetic tale.

‘I named him Cyril. Like my brother,’ Alfie continues still looking at the dog. There’s a hint of sadness in his eyes.

‘I didn’t know you had a brother,’ I say. Alfie never talked about his family much. Alfie looks away from the dog and takes a large sip of his tea.

‘When I was seven, right, my mother got a bun in the oven. Likely not my father’s, but I didn’t care. I was excited, yeah, I was about to get a baby brother. Someone to look after, some semblance of a fucking purpose. Then she went to the hospital, right, and I stayed with her co-worker, Edna. Lovely woman, that, bless her soul. So, I was with Edna for a few days and every day, after dinner, we would pray. We would pray, right, that my little brother and my mother would be okay. And then one day, Edna gets a phone call and she cries and cries and she tells me ‘your brother’s dead’, right, ‘little Cyril is dead’. I never saw another person care so much about another woman’s miscarriage.’

Alfie doesn’t look sad when he tells the story, but he sounds sad. He sounds like he’s just heard the news about his brother again. I imagine little Alfie being told he’s not getting a brother, that his mother gave birth to a blob of blood. Things like that leave marks on kids, I should know.

Ollie looks uncomfortable in his sit. He’s probably heard this story before. It is not a nice story to hear, but Alfie’s stories rarely are. I imagine how stories about my childhood would sound. Probably not much happier.

‘But I got a baby brother now. I got my little Cyril,’ Alfie finishes his story on a happy note and pets his dog again. I can see that no matter the bond he shares with the dog, he didn’t only name him to commemorate his brother, he named him as a reminder of that moment, of crying Edna and unanswered prayers.

\---

It really should feel more uncomfortable. I can’t fall asleep, but this time, neither can Alfie. He keeps turning over. It seems he’s used to having the bed all to himself. He gets close to me twice. Close enough so that I feel his body heat, his breath on the skin of my shoulder. It really should feel more awkward than it does, but it just feels nice.

I think of Grace. I never noticed how she’s been turning away from me when we slept together, lately. It figures. I should miss her more than I do.

There’s a lot of things that should feel different. But they don’t.

There’s dim light coming through the thin curtains from the streetlight outside. It makes the David’s star ornament Alfie’s hung on the window handle cast a shadow across the room. I trace the shape with my gaze from the closet door to the coat stand with my and Alfie’s coats to the desk chair to the bed. One of the star points falls directly on Alfie’s lying figure. It’s too dark to see the details of his face, but he seems so peaceful and serene. For a moment my mind stops racing and I feel like I might actually be able to fall asleep.

I am shaken from my thoughts by the sound of my burner vibrating in my coat pocket. It takes me a few seconds to gather my resolve to leave the comfort of the bed and walk across the room. I can hear Alfie stir behind me.

I recognize Moss’s number.

‘Moss?’ I answer.

‘Yes, you called. I’m off duty now,’ Moss starts. It takes me a moment to remember what I called him for.

‘I called because I need a name. The policeman who dealt with Luca. He’s likely on their payroll and I need him out of the picture if I want to even come close to court. I fear Luca might have much more power than we originally anticipated,’ I explain. There’s a short pause before Moss answers.

‘What do you mean ‘out of the picture’, Tommy?’ Moss asks carefully.

‘I’ll make sure it doesn’t come to violence unless necessary,’ I assure him. I’ve learned to never deal in absolutes when making promises.

‘I understand, Tommy, but please be careful. This isn’t some backroom drug dealing. We’re talking about high-ranking police officers here,’ Moss warns me. I sigh. I know I’m getting in over my head now, but Luca’s played his cards. He really didn’t leave me much choice.

‘I know. Just give me the name,’ I prompt Moss. After another moment of silence, he reluctantly answers.

‘Chief Inspector Chester Campbell.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I pulled a 'there's only one bed' trope, fight me.


	5. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy is left alone and tries to cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: alcohol use and panic attacks.

When I wake up the next morning, the bed is empty and the room is bright with daylight. I'm not even sure it's still morning. I haven't slept in in a long while. To be fair, it's not like I got much sleep at night.

I've got a name now, but no idea what it means. According to Moss, this Inspector Campbell is relatively new and very adamant. He didn't let anyone else talk to Hancox. He probably got suspicious when he couldn't find me in my room. I agreed with Moss to limit communication to absolute necessities.

I would've researched the copper then and there, but when I started badgering Alfie for his computer password, he just simply stood up and dragged me to bed. He promised he'd let me use his computer in the morning. He fell asleep instantly with his hand on my arm to prevent me from sneaking out.

I roll out of bed and look around the room. Alfie is nowhere to be seen. He probably went to attend actual scholarly obligations as not to raise suspicion. There's a computer on Alfie's desk and a small box. I don’t bother getting dressed, I just cross the room and investigate the box. Nicotine patches. Alfie's gone out of his way to get me patches while I was sound asleep even though I didn't even ask for them. I need to remember to thank him. I gratefully take one out and put it on my arm. It's a familiar feeling. I used to wear them when I started dating Grace and she convinced me to try to quit. Didn't work, but it's not like I have an alternative now.

I open up the laptop on the desk. I would've used mine, but I forgot it in my room. It's not like I keep anything incriminating on my laptop. I'm not _that_ stupid.

There's a sticky note on the screen with a series of numbers and letters that make no sense to me. The password. Underneath, it just says 'BURN IT'. I type in the password and then spend a few minutes memorizing it before I take a lighter out of my coat pocket and burn the note.

The moment I turn back to the computer, I feel an uneasiness descend over me. I ignore it and focus on the research. I take my notebook out of the safe and start writing down whatever I can find on this Inspector Campbell.

After a few hours, I have this:

He's born and raised in Belfast where he joined the force. He was relocated to Birmingham about a year ago. No official statements as of why, but some digging turned up some allegations of discrimination against the Irish, especially Irish Travellers. Just what my gypsy arse needed.

I sigh and look around the room. It seems smaller than before. I want to focus on the laptop again, but I can't. Alfie’s still not back. I thought he would be back by now. There's this heavy feeling in my chest and I can't shake it off.

I stand up and start pacing the room. I feel trapped. With every step it feels more like a prison. I can't go outside, I can't smoke, I can't call Polly or John or Grace and out there somewhere, there's a fucking racist prick from Belfast who has it out for me. I know I'll get out of here in a few days when the coast is clear but that doesn't comfort me at all. Because now, at least, I have Alfie. Then, I'll be alone and I am the most dangerous to myself when I'm alone.

I need something. To help me focus. To keep my mind from spiralling. To keep the paranoia at bay.

I punch in the code for the oven. I notice it immediately - the stash is gone. It's fucking gone. What the fuck did Alfie do? Did he take it to the police? Did he fucking betray me? Again?

I can feel anger join my growing paranoia as I scream, grab the nearest bottle and raise it above my head. Then I close my eyes and breathe in. Fuck. I should go. In here I'm a sitting duck. But I know full well that I have nowhere to go, not in the middle of the day on a bustling campus.

My mind is racing and my body is trembling. I open the bottle and take a swig. Gin. It'll do.

Fuck. I sit on the ground and hug my legs. I feel a bump on my arm. The nicotine patch. Why would Alfie go through the trouble of buying one for me if he's just going to betray me afterwards?

I take another swig and keep drinking. It doesn't fucking matter, does it? I'm Tommy fucking Shelby. If Alfie crosses me, I'm taking him down with me no matter how nice he plays to be.

For once in my life, I trusted someone would just be nice to me, just out of the goodness of their heart. I thought he was nice. I thought…

\---

'Fucking hell, Tommy,' Alfie shakes his head as he enters the room. 'Right, I'm going to need to change the oven code.'

I look at him, but I have a hard time focusing. I know I should be angry at him, but it takes me a few seconds to remember why.

'You fucking bastard!' I point at him and try to shout, but it comes out as barely more than a whimper.

'Right, what did I do now?' Alfie asks with a sigh. I know he's dismissing me because I'm drunk, but I am serious.

'My drugs!' I accuse him. He stole them. He stole my drugs.

'Oh, yes, the drugs. I took care of them,' Alfie states and walks toward me. I try to skitter away, but I don't get far before two large arms grab me under the shoulders and hoist me up. My head spins even though he's holding me. Alfie takes the bottle from me and it's only then that I notice that more than half is missing.

'Alright. Let's get you to bed, shall we?' Alfie mumbles as half-carries me to the bed. I am still just in my underwear and all of a sudden I am well aware of Alfie's hands on my hips. He sits me down and looks me over. He makes sure I’m listening before he continues.

'In the morning, right, you were very much asleep. And I couldn't find it in my little fucking heart, to wake you up. So I decided, right, to take care of some business on my own, including, among other things, getting rid of the incriminating fucking evidence in the closet, which I have stored in a safe location, the details of which, given the circumstance of _you_ getting pissed in _my_ room with _my_ alcohol because you couldn't find _your_ drugs, I am not disclosing to you for your own fucking safety,' Alfie elaborates. I don't really follow, but it sounds like it makes sense so I just nod. He grunts in response. He seems slightly disapproving, probably because I broke into his stash.

Alfie walks across the room to the closet and fiddles with the code screen. I just watch him as he marches across the room again and picks up my notebook. He always looks so menacing when he walks with intent. He has this air of tranquillity around him, like he has complete control over any situation that might arise. It's captivating to watch.

'Belfast, eh?' Alfie asks when he reads my notes. It takes me a few seconds to understand what he’s referring to, my thoughts lingering on Alfie’s figure.

‘And he’s racist. What a shocker,’ Alfie rolls his eyes. He looks at me and puts down the notebook. My heart starts racing for some reason and I can’t fucking look away. Something seems to hold Alfie’s gaze on mine and for a few seconds my brain seems to stop. It’s probably the alcohol, but there’s this warmth pooling deep in my belly. I shiver and look away.

‘So, we need a plan,’ I say, trying to ignore the tension in the room.

‘That we do, mate’ Alfie agrees and starts walking toward me. He stops right in front of me. ‘See, one thing I really don’t like about this whole mess, right, is that Luca Changretta now has the idea that it’s somehow okay to talk to me. He was waiting for me today. Fucking waiting for me in front of the Alpha house. I could barely see him in that cloud of vapour he keeps puffing out of that stick of his. And he asked: ‘Where the fuck is Tommy?’’

Alfie does a bad imitation of a pretentious Italian accent and I huff out a laugh. It’s stupid, but in my inebriated state, I find it funny. I can see Alfie’s serious façade crumble for just a moment as he smiles at me. Then he’s back to his story.

‘So I, the exemplary specimen of a man that I am, told him to fuck off and stay away from my house because I know fuck all. And the scum that he is, dared insult my honour by insinuating that I would encourage Hancox to lie to the police. Apparently, the boy claims he doesn’t remember the party,’ Alfie elaborates. I nod thoughtfully. That’s great. That means I’m safe enough for now.

‘That means we have to get you out of here. Before Hancox breaks. Preferably tonight,’ Alfie concludes. I blink. I haven’t thought about that, but it makes sense. I always thought I would stay here for at least a few days. I haven’t been here long, but his room has already become a sanctuary of sorts. It feels warm. Familiar. He feels familiar.

I don’t want to leave.

I suddenly realize how scared I am. I am in fucking uni and I am a wanted man. I pretend to be strong and calm, but I’m not. And the thought of being alone now fills me with dread.

I need to stay here. For just a little bit longer. Until I calm down. I need to stay with someone. I need to stay with Alfie.

‘I’m staying here,’ I dissent and stand up. My head spins and I nearly fall back on the bed, but I manage to stand my ground and muster what I think is a defiant look. Alfie stares back at me with a heavy gaze that’s both curious and threatening. I realize I never really stood this close to Alfie before and the thought fills my mind.

I lean closer to Alfie and he doesn’t move away. He stares back at me, the curiosity in his gaze overtaking the threat. Alarm bells go off in my head and I know my rationality would stop me, had it not been drowned in gin. But the alarm bells are far away and Alfie is so, so close.

I don’t know who closes the distance between us. It might’ve been him, but it was probably me. He doesn’t move away, though. He kisses back and my heart starts racing and for a second I forget about Luca and the police and the drugs and all there is, is Alfie. And then he pulls away and the alarm bells become louder, because now the moment is over and the warmth turns into fear.

\---

I wake up with a pounding headache. The room is dark, apart from a computer screen throwing a gentle glow on Alfie’s figure. A wave of embarrassment washes over me. I don’t make a habit of getting drunk in other people’s homes.

‘Good morning, sweetheart,’ Alfie says and sets a glass of water on the nightstand. I gratefully take it. Memories start coming back to me and I almost spit out the water.

‘Did we… Did we kiss?’ I ask, too afraid to look at Alfie who is now back to working at his computer. I vaguely recall an argument and then Alfie standing next to me, his green eyes holding my gaze. And his lips, the feeling of his beard against my skin. I try my best not to blush.

‘Sure did,’ Alfie confirms nonchalantly.

‘Fuck,’ I curse under my breath.

‘That we did not,’ Alfie comments and I can hear the smugness in his voice. He is acting way to casually about this, but I’m grateful for it.

‘What happened afterwards?’ I ask cautiously. The rest of the afternoon is pretty much a blur. Alfie turns away from whatever he’s doing on the computer and looks at me, a light smile playing on his face. He’s enjoying this way too much.

‘Not much. You got into this panic mode, yeah, like a scared fucking puppy. I had to lock the fucking door because you wanted to run out. Then you tried to get into the oven, but you forgot I changed the code, yeah, so you just hid in the closet and pretended I don’t exist. Interesting coping mechanism, that. So you’re in there for like an hour and I got afraid you somehow managed to get to more alcohol or something, right? Instead, I find you asleep as a baby. If said baby fell asleep in their own vomit,’ Alfie describes, a hint of laughter in his voice, not in a mocking way, more like he’s recalling a fond little moment of his life. I can feel the heat on my cheeks rising and I’m fully aware of Alfie’s scrutinizing gaze on me. I notice the unmistakable taste of sick in my mouth now.

‘I’m sorry,’ I apologize to Alfie. I can’t imagine what he thinks of me now.

‘Happens to the best of us. I’m just glad you didn’t choke,’ Alfie dismisses me and turns back to his computer.

‘Not just about that. The whole thing. Getting pissed, yelling at you. The kiss,’ I elaborate. I can see Alfie pause when I mention the kiss, like he’s thinking it over.

‘No need to be sorry about that,’ Alfie concludes. I’m not entirely sure what he means by that, but I let it go. I always assumed Alfie was straight. I’ve seen him with women before, at parties. Not often, but it’s happened. I cannot deny I haven’t thought about him in that way, he’s by all accounts a good-looking man. But I would’ve never done anything about it if it weren’t for the alcohol. So I would’ve thought that when the alcohol left my system, I would’ve gone back to occasionally admiring him from afar. But there’s this part of my brain that keeps hoping that maybe he’s into me, as if that’s something I would want. He kissed me back. And that’s why I got so scared last night. I’m scared I might be falling for him. And I’m scared he might return those feelings. So I did what I used to do when I was scared when my father came home. I tried to run away and when I couldn’t, I hid. Because that’s how I deal with problems. I run away and when I hit a dead end, I hide.

‘So, how are you with boats?’ Alfie breaks the silence. It’s an odd question, but that doesn’t surprise me anymore when it comes to him.

‘I’m okay. Why?’ I ask. I know he’ll explain it anyway, but he always looks so satisfied when people prompt him to talk more.

‘There really is no other way to get to Belfast,’ Alfie says casually. Belfast. I completely forgot about that.

‘Are you sending me to investigate the copper?’ I ask. He’s been here for a month. If there’s dirt to be found, it’s in Belfast.

‘Well, you can’t have all the fun. I’m coming with,’ Alfie says excitedly. Well, as excitedly as Alfie gets. It feels like he’s planning a holiday.

‘Of course, there’s still a few things to take care of here in Birmingham. Your girlfriend, for example. You need to make sure she’ll testify against Angel when the time comes. Your family. We need to come up with a cover story for our trip to Belfast,’ Alfie starts planning and it takes me by surprise. I feel a little bad about the whole thing. I’ve been black out drunk while he’s been planning to keep _me_ out of prison.

Alfie yawns and turns off his computer before he stands up and loudly cracks his back.

‘Let’s go to bed,’ Alfie proposes and makes his way toward the bed. He takes off his shirt and throws it on the chair. I feels different now, looking at his unabashed shirtless form. I’ve seen it before, I’ve slept in his bed with nothing but underwear on. But now that little hopeful part of my brain is imagining things that make the warmth pool at my crotch. I swallow hard and look away.

‘You said I should go away before Hancox gives my description,’ I remind him. The thought still scares me, but now, so does the thought of staying here, so what’s the point?

‘You said you wanted to stay,’ Alfie simply states and lays down next to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, things are happening in the Alfie/Tommy department.


	6. Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy makes some last preperations before embarking with Alfie on their journey to Belfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am posting this chapter today (or just eariler, depends where you're from) because I am leaving tomorrow early in the morning and won't be coming back until evening and posting it late just wouldn't be fair, would it?

I expected hospital halls to be quieter during night-time. There’s a constant buzzing of machines and occasional coughing coming from the rooms. I know I shouldn’t be here, but it’s surprisingly easy to sneak in. The nurses occasionally give me a confused look, but they’re generally too preoccupied to do anything about it. Or they just don’t care.

I find Grace’s room easily enough. It’s dark and she’s asleep. It reminds me of the times I couldn’t fall asleep back when we were together. I used to just watch her face in the moonlight. It always calmed me down. There’s a strange feeling of longing in my chest. Just what I was afraid of. It took me a few days to gather my courage and come here.

I quietly sit in the chair beside her bed. I’d love to stay and wait for her to wake up, but I know that at some point, the nurses are probably going to throw me out. So I gently take her hand in mine and start drawing circles around it. I would wake her up this way sometimes. When I was up early and just needed to talk to someone. She’d get mad sometimes, when she wanted to sleep in, but then we’d just kiss and I’d apologize and she’d still pretend to be mad, but there’d be that soft little smile behind the pretence… I doubt I’m going to see it today.

Grace slowly stirs but doesn’t open her eyes yet. I say her name quietly and I think I see her smile. But then she opens her eyes and the reality wipes it off her face.

‘Tommy?’ she asks me in confusion. She doesn’t pull her hand away. At least there’s that.

‘Hi, Grace,’ I say and sigh. I had a speech prepared, but now I don’t know what to say.

‘Did you flip your coin?’ she asks, but there’s no hope in her voice. I remember our previous conversation, about her going to New York and me staying here.

‘I did,’ I simply say and she nods. She doesn’t approve, but she understands.

‘I am pressing charges for the stabbing. But things got messy. I’m going to lay low for a while,’ I go straight to business, because that’s one thing I know how to do. Grace huffs and rolls her eyes. I’d apologize, but words wouldn’t change a thing. I never expected her to accept my lifestyle, but I also never expected my lifestyle to tear us apart.

‘Grace, I need you to testify when the time comes,’ I tell her and she seems to grasp the severity of the situation.

‘Fine, I’ll testify,’ she says.

‘It could take weeks. Months,’ I continue. Even if we find the dirt on Campbell, there’s still the issue of the trials against him and Angel.

‘I’ll be in New York by then,’ Grace says with a sigh. I can hear the desperation in her voice. She just wants to leave all this behind and I don’t blame her. But I need her.

‘That’s okay. We can arrange to videocall,’ I propose. The truth is, I have no leverage over her. She owes me nothing. All I can offer her in return is a promise of me backing off.

I can see Grace’s hesitation as she’s torn between helping me and helping herself, but eventually she looks away and nods. A wave of relief washes through me. So that’s business done.

‘Is this all you came to tell me?’ she asks when I’m quiet for a minute. I don’t know what else to tell her. I tried not to think about her these past few days, because it still hurt. I don’t miss her as much as I miss the closeness. And then there’s Alfie. Nothing else has happened and neither of us mentioned it again, but for some reason, whenever I think about it, it feels like cheating. It’s not. Grace and I are through. But I really shouldn’t be able to move on this quickly. But I don’t tell her any of that.

‘Yes,’ I say simply. Grace smiles sadly at me. I can’t tell if she’s disappointed or relieved.

The doors open then and a nurse walks in.

‘Excuse me, young lad, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,’ she says politely. I nod and pull away my hand. Grace lets me.

‘Tommy,’ I hear Grace’s voice behind me when I’m at the door. I stop, but don’t turn.

‘Take care,’ she says. I close my eyes for a second.

‘You too,’ I whisper as I leave, but I doubt she’s heard me.

\---

I angrily sip on my Ballentine’s. It’s the last time I’m coming to this damn bar. I find the lack of Irish whiskey at bars unacceptable. But I couldn’t risk going to The Garrison. It’s not exactly a secret I meet with my family there.

‘Remind me to pack some of the old Jameson for the way,’ I tell Alfie who’s sitting at the adjacent table. He just grunts and sips his dandelion and burdock. He’s not keen on the idea of meeting my family. Jesus, it sounds like we’re a couple.

I hear the unmistakable ruckus of Arthur entering the room. And then there’s quiet. Arthur doesn’t go quiet often.

‘Hello, Arthur,’ Alfie greets him with a mocking smile and outstretched arms. I stifle my laughter when Arthur looks at me angrily.

‘What is he doing here?’ Arthur asks. I understand why Arthur hates Alfie, but then again, Arthur’s never been one to think of things from a business side of view.

‘He’s on our side. He’s helping me,’ I explain, but Arthur furrows his brow and steps closer to me. He looks over Alfie with disdain, before turning to me.

‘You cannot trust that man,’ Arthur hisses, loud enough for Alfie to hear.

‘Well, Arthur… It’s Arthur, right? I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?’ Alfie says and scratches his beard as if he’s trying to remember Arthur. I know full well that he knows exactly who Arthur is. ‘Oh, yes, that boxing match, right? You vs Bonnie Gold, right? Mate, that knockout must’ve hurt, eh?’

I can see Arthur start to shake, palms clenched into fists and knuckles white. He’s going to explode any second now. He’s not used to this. Most people don’t dare insult him. Well, Alfie’s not most people. I probably should’ve told him to leave Arthur alone, but the man needs some entertainment, I guess.

‘Arthur,’ I warn him. ‘Play nice.’

I can see him force his palms open and he walks away and takes a sit three tables away. I don’t protest. It’s better than the alternative.

‘You’re making a mistake, Tommy,’ he mutters and crosses his arms. I let him sulk. He has good intentions, but he’s no use when he’s running high on emotions.

Polly and Ada enter the bar then, Polly’s high hills echoing through the otherwise empty room.

‘Oh, I see you brought your boyfriend,’ Ada teases and Polly quickly scolds her. Alfie looks away and shakes his head. My sexuality isn’t a secret to my family and has never really been a problem, although it took Arthur a while to get used to the idea of a bi brother. Ada, however, was a kid back then and immediately took to the idea, constantly asking when I’m bringing a boyfriend home. I smile but otherwise ignore her comment and so, apparently, does Alfie.

‘Where’s John?’ I ask them and they both shrug and find sits next to Arthur. It’s already a few minutes past so I decide to start the meeting. He’ll just have to be filled in later. I down the sorry excuse of a whiskey and lean forward on the table.

‘So, as we all know, there’s been problems with the dealing business. Luca Changretta gave me out to the police, because of my intentions to press charges against Angel. We’ve gathered that Luca has contacts in the police. More than just contacts, in fact. I’ve come to believe there’s heavy bribery involved, possibly connected to the Italian mafia. Chief Inspector Chester Campbell. He’s a copper, relocated to Birmingham from Belfast. The circumstances of said relocation are highly suspicious and we believe the Changrettas helped him cover up whatever happened in Belfast. So we’re going there to…’

‘Who’s ‘we’, eh, Tommy?’ Arthur interrupts me and points toward Alfie angrily. ‘You and that fucking tosser?’

‘Yes, Alfie and I are going to Belfast,’ I confirm sternly and Arthur huffs and looks away. He’s taking it way too personally. A purposeful cough comes from my right and breaks the tension between me and my brother.

‘That fucking tosser would like to add that, for reasons pertaining security, yours as much as ours, any sort of unnecessary fucking contact is strongly prohibited. If, however, contact is needed, it should be done through the tosser’s second in command, Ollie, who will, in my absence, take care of all official and unofficial business of Alpha Pi Beta fraternity and can be reached in the fraternity’s main office or on this number,’ Alfie recites and pushes a piece of paper with a phone number in front of him.

‘I’m going to be frank, Tommy. I don’t like this idea, but I’m going to trust you know what you’re doing,’ Polly says and stands up to take the paper. Finally, someone acting reasonable in this room.

‘So, when are you coming back home?’ Ada asks then. I look at Alfie, but he just shrugs.

‘I don’t know,’ I tell the truth. ‘When we have something tangible on Campbell.’

Before anyone has a chance to comment, the door to the bar opens and a distressed-looking John enters the room.

‘I was being followed,’ he says. He sounds out of breath.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask, panic suddenly filling my mind. ‘You were followed here?’

‘No, I lost them,’ John elaborates and leans against a table. ‘That’s why I’m late.’

A wave of relief washes over me. I thought him well enough.

‘Who followed you?’ Arthur asks what we’re all thinking.

‘Luca’s men,’ John confirms my suspicions. ‘Not the police. Just some older Epsilon boys. They’re still looking for you, I reckon.’

I nod. We can work with that. I quickly brief John on my plans and he listens and nods like a good fucking brother should.

‘The point of this whole meeting is that you know where I am and what I’m doing. But I need you to forget about it. Act like you have no idea where I am. I went out of town a week ago, but don’t know where I am. It’s not the first time I’ve just disappeared. You don’t know when I’ll be back. You have no idea about anything that’s going on, about the drugs, about the copper, about Luca. You meet up here or at The Garrison and you make sure Luca’s men follow you. You talk about how school is going and how life is great now that Tommy isn’t here to boss you around,’ I give further instructions. It sounds straightforward enough but leave it to my family to fuck it up somehow. I turn to John and Arthur specifically.

‘And no fucking fighting. Not in the family, not with the Changrettas, not with the Alphas. Everything is good and well. Do not draw attention to yourselves,’ I emphasise. John nods and Arthur reluctantly lets out an affirmative grunt.

‘Any questions?’ I ask and when I’m met by silence, I stand up.

‘Good,’ I say as I put on my coat. Alfie follows suit. ‘I’m leaving tomorrow.’

I am almost out the door when I remember something.

‘Oh and by the way, while I’m gone, Polly’s in charge,’ I announce. I hear Arthur’s angry grunt as I walk out of the bar.

\---

It’s half an hour into the ‘Belfast road trip’ as Alfie calls it, and I am painfully aware of the fact that I cannot leave.

Alfie will not fucking shut up. He’s telling me about his blind cousin now. It’s a sad story, really, like most Alfie’s stories are. And it’s fine, it really is. I don’t mind him talking, but we have seven hours to go and the thought of that drives me crazy.

‘And it’s unfair, yeah, that some people are just born at a disadvantage, right. Because, right, they did not do anything bad to deserve it. Me and you, yeah, we’d deserve it. To be blind and deaf and fucking crippled for the shit we’ve done. And you might say: ‘Alfie, what have you done that’s so bad, right, that you think you deserve to be fucking blind?’, yeah, well, I’ll tell you. I once distributed for this party at some kid’s house, right, business as usual. And I go to sleep, conscious clean as a whistle and then I wake up to the news of a car crash. Five people dead. Because some wanker from the party decided to drink and drive. Drunk on my fucking alcohol. And he was the one that survived. Killed two of his friends and a mother who was driving her two children to the urgent treatment centre because they had an ear infection. I can still see the mother in my dreams sometimes, cradling her children and crying as they bleed out.’

I want to tell him that it’s not his fault. That this is on the idiot that sat behind the wheel while drunk. But Alfie just continues.

‘And you, you’re even worse, right. With your cocaine and your pills. How many lives have you fucked up just to make a profit, eh?’

His words don’t anger me. I’ve thought about it a lot and while I understand his point, I’ve made peace with it. I’ve never come up to people and offered them drugs. I’ve just learned to put myself in situations where and when people around me are asking for them. And I give them what they ask for. They would’ve found another dealer if I weren’t there, one that might not even care about the quality of the product or the fairness of the price.

But there is perhaps one person whose life I ruined that has recently visited my dreams as well. Hancox. I’m not sure how far the police are willing to go to get information, especially police bribed by the mafia. And yet, he stood up for me. As far as we know, he still hasn’t told on me. They’re going to have to let him go soon, too. He’s stronger than Alfie gives him credit for.

‘Enough to deserve to rot in hell,’ I indulge Alfie. And it’s true. I have no illusions of being a good man, I just know I could be worse.

‘Oh, don’t worry, that’s still waiting for us,’ Alfie adds. He’s sure in a cheerful mood. I expect him to continue, but he seems lost in thought. The engine suddenly seems extremely loud. He’s looking through the window and seems transfixed on some point in the distance. He looks calm, as always, but it’s the kind of calm, that’s a bit too calm for my liking.

‘So, our ferry leaves at nine from Holyhead. We have a cabin booked to get away from prying eyes. Then we go from Dublin to Belfast and we start with research tomorrow,’ I repeat our plan. We’ve gone over it, several times. But I need to break the silence. It’s too painful to hear.

‘Yes,’ Alfie confirms. ‘I booked us a hotel near the archives so we have no excuses not to be there when they open, yeah? We research for two hours, write down every lead, every name, date, anything we find, we exchange the info and research some more with new data in mind. It’s like a computer, right, when you give it new information, it adjusts to it.’

Alfie, too, seems perfectly content with talking about anything, as long as it takes his mind off of the darkness. For a bloke that spends his time running a frat house and distributing alcohol, he seems peculiarly excited about searching through archives.

‘When doing this kind of research, right, you need to be very systematic and thorough. You know, it’s been a while since I was in an archive, right. But I used to practically live in one, yeah. See, I was searching for my father. The one that left. Without a trace. All he left behind was a hat. I never met him and my dear mother never wanted to talk about him, so with my very limited information and a hat, I made my way into an archive and started my search for my lost father.’

‘Did you find him?’ I ask. It seems most of us really can’t make it through life without some sort of daddy issues.

‘I did find his name, yeah, if that’s what you’re referring too. But it doesn’t fucking matter. The guy clearly didn’t want to have anything to do with me, right. Can’t blame him, really. It was never about finding him, right, it was about proving that I can, that he can’t fucking hide from me like a fucking coward. You fuck a whore, you deal with the bastard, eh? What I found, right, besides my arsehole of a father, was my love for archives. Full of information other people don’t want you to find. And information, right, is the most powerful weapon you can have in today’s society. Besides guns. But guns are messy,’ Alfie explains and I can feel the tension in the car subsiding. Alfie goes on with his rambling and at some point it mashes together with the hum of the engine. The sign for Telford is the last thing I remember before I drift to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The road trip begins :D next chapter is coming Tuesday morning, European time.


	7. Clue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Alfie make their way toward Belfast and come to term with their feelings.

Alfie goes to park the car while he sends me up to secure our cabin. I am still groggy from sleep. I've slept quite a lot recently. I don't know why, really, but there's something about Alfie's presence that just calms me down. I feel safe, I guess.

Our cabin is on the far end of the ship and it takes me a while to navigate the winding hallways. Eventually, I find the right place. Evident by Alfie standing in front of the door, tapping his foot impatiently.

'Where the fuck have you been, mate?' he asks when I join him and I mutter something about getting lost.

The cabin is spacious with a double bed, a tv and a separate bathroom. I notice how natural it seems, walking into _our_ room with _our_ bed. It almost feels more like a couple's trip than a business one.

'I'm going to take a shower,' Alfie announces. I nod and flop myself on the bed. I thought I'd be able to continue the nap from earlier in the car. We left early in the morning, by sunrise, before the majority of the campus was awake. But I can't fall asleep again. I opt for browsing through the tv channels instead.

I settle for some random Hollywood action film by the time Alfie comes out of the bathroom. And boy, is it a sight to behold. He's walking slowly, drying his hair with one towel while the other hangs low on his hips, exposing the sharp hip bones and the beginning of his happy trail. There are drops of water still running down his body, tracing the lines of his tattoos. He hangs the towel he used for his hair over the shoulder and saunters toward the bed, hair all raggedy and skin still wet. I can't help but stare. I think he notices, but it almost feels like he's doing it on purpose, the whole show. He could've easily gotten dressed in the bathroom or at least dried completely. Not that I'm complaining.

Alfie sits down next to me, close enough for me to feel his cold skin against my arm and it makes me shiver. Smell of rose-scented shower gel blends with the smell of him and even if I close my eyes, his presence overwhelms me.

'What are we watching, eh?' he asks nonchalantly and it takes all my willpower to look back at the telly. There's a chase scene of some sort, some guy shouting something about taking cover and splitting up. I just shrug. I don't trust my voice in that precise moment.

I try to focus on the film, but the image of Alfie coming out of the shower keeps haunting my thoughts. It doesn't help that he's sitting so close, adorned only in that generic fluffy white hotel towel. And it definitely doesn't help that at one point he subtly puts his hand on my thigh. Well, as subtly as Alfie does anything. It's a gentle intimate touch and he starts running his thumb against the thin cotton of my trousers. The fabric seems to burn under his touch, like if he keeps doing that he'll eventually get to my skin. The sounds from the telly thankfully cover up the hitch in my breath. I try to prevent my mind from acknowledging the intimacy of the moment, but it doesn't stop the warmth from pooling at my crotch. A part of me wishes Alfie would move his hand a bit to the right and the more I try to quash those thoughts, the more they occupy my mind. I can feel Alfie's gaze on me and it makes me feel vulnerable, like he can see right through me and my weakness. I look away, but it doesn't help. Thankfully, Alfie decides to focus on the telly, but he keeps his hand there, thumb still moving teasingly on my thigh.

He doesn't watch for long, though. Instead, he dozes off after a few minutes, his head weirdly contorted against the headboard and quiet wheezing noises coming from his throat with an occasional snore. Poor bloke, he must be tired from all the driving.

With the warm pressure still in my groin, I decide to take the opportunity to relieve it. It's risky, but I've grown up with siblings - I've learned to be quick and quiet.

Before I go to the bathroom, I pause to check if Alfie's still asleep. He seems to be, his mouth slightly ajar and a bit of drool pooling on his lower lip. He's still just in his towel, but the contrast between his sexy walk and his sprawled sleeping figure is stark. Still, even in this unflattering position, the sight of his naked torso does things to me.

I don't waste any time as I get in the bathroom, find some shower gel, unzip my pants and lean against the shower wall. The tiles are still a bit wet from Alfie's shower, but I don't mind it. I close my eyes and let the pleasure guide me. In the state that I'm in, it doesn't take me long to get hard.

The images come by themselves and fill my mind. There's no particular fantasy to them, just him. His body. His face. His tattoos. His voice.

With a final grunt I spill over my hand, a cold wave of pleasure washing over me and I shiver. I grab one of the clean towels and wipe the mess off before it dries. I zip myself up and lean against the wall to catch my breath. My mind is still buzzing from the orgasm and I almost miss the sound of bathroom door opening.

'Fucking hell, Tommy,' I hear Alfie's voice from the door and my mind fills with panic. I can feel my heart start to race and blood rush to my face. He's got his clothes on now, which means he's been awake for a bit. If he'd been a minute earlier…

'Next time, right,' Alfie continues when I don't answer. He walks up to the toilet, unzips himself and starts to piss. I can't see anything from my spot, but in this moment, I don't really want to. 'Next time you want to have a wank while I sleep, right, at least fucking tuck me in first. You know I got a back problem and now, yeah, now I have a fuckin crick in my fucking neck, right, because you'd rather wank than make sure I fall asleep in a comfortable position.'

I don't know what to say. I feel like an embarrassed teenager who's just been caught masturbating by his father. I tell myself that I have nothing to be ashamed about. Everyone does it. He does it. Although, in the light of recent events, the thought of Alfie masturbating is not making matters any better.

'And for god's sake, Tommy,' Alfie says now, shakes his cock and zips himself back up before turning to me. 'Next time, lock the fucking door.'

\---

I thought the grass would be greener in Ireland. But it's just the normal amount of green.

I asked Alfie to make a quick cigarette break. I haven't smoked for a few days now and the nicotine patches just aren't cutting it. Alfie didn't seem pleased, but he obliged. I found this small patch of grass, far away enough from the gas station not to pose any sort of fire hazard. I take out a cigarette and light it. The gentle burn in my lungs feels familiar. It doesn't feel as good as I hoped, though.

Alfie's gone to buy himself some coffee, so I enjoy the few minutes of silence and prepare myself for a few more hours of being stuck in the car with now caffeinated Alfie. Just what I need.

'You don't really think I'm upset, right?' I hear Alfie's voice behind me. I sigh, but don't turn to look. I was hoping he wouldn't bring it up. 'Because I'm really not. Look, I'm a healthy male, in my twenties, you're a healthy-ish male, in your twenties, we have needs, right, and we take care of them when we need to. I understand that, Tommy, there's no need to be embarrassed.'

I huff and flick away the finished cigarette. It's not about what he saw, really. I'm just angry at myself. And confused. For years I've been building this facade in front of me. This picture of someone who's in control, someone who's unreadable and unwavering. I needed that, for the drug-dealing as well as the fraternity stuff. But as soon as I come close to Alfie, the whole thing crumbles. Maybe because he can see through it. Maybe because… I don't want to think about it.

But I appreciate him trying to not make a big deal out of it.

'How's your neck?' I ask instead.

'Eh, it'll pass,' Alfie says dismissively and takes a sip of his coffee. 'But my back is being a fucking cunt lately. And the car… All this sitting can't be doing much good, can it?'

Without a second thought I step behind Alfie.

'Would it help if I?' I start and slowly put my hands on Alfie's shoulders and start rubbing. I half expect him to recoil or to brush me off, but he just tenses his muscles, makes a pleased grunt and then relaxes under my fingers. And then I realize what I’m doing. Fuck. I'm Tommy fucking Shelby! I don't give massages to people! But apparently, I do. At least when said people are Alfie Solomons. The worst part is that there’s a corner in my brain that’s actually really enjoying it.

'This, right, this might be the one thing I miss most about relationships. See, my ex-boyfriend, right, he was an utter wanker. Fucking dreadful, he was. But he gave the best fucking massages. I considered keeping him around just for that,’ Alfie comments. My brain immediately locks on the fact that Alfie used to be with a man. I tell myself it doesn't matter, but my brain has already stacked the information on this neat little pile, labelled 'Reasons why you should pursue Alfie', right on top of 'That sexy grunt he just made'. It's a kind of pile that really probably shouldn't exist in the first place, but it's been getting bigger lately and that scares me.

'Am I on par with your ex?’ I can’t help asking. Not that I’m trying to compare. And to be fair, I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m just rubbing circles on his shoulders.

‘Not quite,’ Alfie answers. ‘But there’s other reasons to keep you around.’

‘Such as?’ I ask, trying to keep my voice casual, but my heart is racing and my mind in buzzing. I feel like I might be pushing it.

‘Well, there's a lot, really, but to narrow it down, right, I'd say your body, your wit,' Alfie says and turns to face me, his shoulders falling out of my grip. 'And your inability to get a fucking clue.'

What. The fuck? Before I can gather my thoughts, Alfie's on his way to the car. But I won't just let him leave without an explanation.

'What fucking clue?' I ask when he's within earshot, opening the door to his car.

'Doesn't matter,' he answers. 'Get in the car, Tommy,'

I get a feeling I know what this is about. If I'm wrong, I'm in for a hell of a car ride. But at this point, it's not even about what I want, it's about Alfie and his fucking accusations. So apparently it's my fault for not having read Alfie's non-existing clues? I open the driver's door.

'What fucking clue am I supposed to have missed, eh, Alfie?' I ask demandingly. It helps that, for once, I'm towering over him. He seems distressed, scared even, and I see a reflection of myself in it. We wouldn't be having this conversation if it weren't for the anger spurring me on. But deep inside, there's fear. Wherever this conversation leads, it's going to change things.

'On the ferry…' Alfie starts.

'On the ferry,' I repeat exasperatedly. 'You mean that time you came out of the shower, all wet and sexy? When you touched my leg? What sort of a fucking clue is that? What was that supposed to do besides make me horny?'

I am shouting at this point, adrenalin rushing through my body, the consequences of this conversation far from my mind.

'I am not used to chasing after people!' Alfie shouts back. He's getting angry now, too.

'Me neither, but here I am!' I confess and Alfie just looks at me for a few seconds.

'Well, you weren't being clear about it either,' Alfie retorts. I shake my head. Is he fucking blind?

'Alfie, I fucking kissed you! What part of that is unclear?' I ask in frustration.

'You were drunk!' Alfie returns. 'I didn't want to take advantage of you!'

'I'm a bloody grown-ass man!' I reply.

'Are you?' Alfie asks and looks at me. His eyes seem cold as he gets out of the car and stands in front of me, staring me down.

'Last week you got black out drunk for no fucking reason and had a wank while I was in the next room, like some fucking child that can't control himself,' Alfie accuses me. It hurts. It hurts, because I know that he's trying to hurt me on purpose. Yet, it changes nothing.

'That's because I'm scared,' I confess quietly. 'I'm scared of my feelings, I'm scared of change and most of all, I'm scared of what thinking about you does to my brain.'

I can see Alfie's features soften and he looks away for a second, contemplating.

'Just get in the car,' he grunts quietly and I do as he says. Because there's nothing left for me to say.

\---

Driving in silence feels weird. But I'm too proud to break it. I've said what I had to say, so I just stare out the window and count yellow cars like I used to as a child. There's not many of them, never was. I should've picked a different colour.

'My mother, right, was an amazing human being,' Alfie says suddenly. I huff. He's seriously going to tell me a story about his mother now? I want to tell him to shut up, but I hold myself back and keep sulking.

'Well, she still is, I think,' Alfie continues. 'I haven't spoken to her in a very long time. You see, last time I saw her, I just joined the Alphas. What was that, five years ago? So I'm supposed to move, right, from my dorm room where I spent my first year to the Alpha house. Not much of a move, really, a couple hundred meters, but my mother, right, she insisted she'd help. So that Thursday morning, I look out the window and I see her beaten excuse of a car in the parking lot. Despite my objections, right, she took her time off work, she drove all the way from London just to help me carry a few boxes and to see her little son, now entering the grown up world as a frat boy. Little did she know her little boy would be selling alcohol to teenagers in less than two years.'

Alfie sighs, almost like thinking about it tires him out.

'And I was annoyed, right, I don’t really know why. I thought it beneath me, yeah, to have my mother help me. It seemed fucking pathetic. So she takes this box, right, it was full of books, in retrospect probably too heavy for her, and she's carrying the box up the stairs when she trips. Bang. Books everywhere and my poor mother fucking sprawled out on the stairs. It wasn’t her fault, right, but that didn’t matter to me. And I told my mother to get her shit together or leave. Not in a very nice manner, either,' Alfie pauses. I can see his knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. These are likely not the memories he likes reliving. The feeling of empathy starts mixing with my pettiness and I almost turn to comfort him, but in the end, my stubbornness wins out.

'So she turned around and ran out of the house, didn't even stop to wipe her tears away. And that's the last I saw of her. I've been told she's in a home now and she's taken care of. But I haven't talked to her since. One of the biggest mistakes of my life,' Alfie concludes. I think I can see what he’s trying to say, but I want him to say it, because that makes him vulnerable and I can’t do this if he’s not ready to meet me halfway.

‘You know you can talk to her, right, apologize?’ I suggest, finally looking at him.

Alfie just sighs and shakes his head. He seems ashamed, sad even.

‘No, I can’t,’ he whispers. It’s the first time I’ve seen Alfie express emotion in such a way, the first time he’s not in control of the situation.

‘I fucking ruin everything. I push away people I care about because deep down I know I don’t fucking deserve them. So I hurt them and they run away and I carry on, because they’re better off without me,’ Alfie explains, his voice full of spite.

‘Is your mother better off without you?’ I ask. I know self-loathing well enough to recognize it. It will twist your perception beyond recognition and eat you from the inside, but it’s not something you can just get rid of.

‘She is,’ Alfie says confidently and looks at me. He seems angry, almost broken for a moment, but then his eyes soften. ‘But that’s not the point, right. I don’t want to make the same mistake with you. You’re better off without me, yeah, but I’m a selfish fucking bastard.’

‘You know what,’ I say then. ‘You’re probably right. I’m better off without you, but lucky for you, I have self-destructive tendencies, so it all checks out.’

Alfie huffs looks back to the road. For a moment, I think I see a hint of a smile on his lips.

‘Look, Tommy, I’m sorry, right, for what I said,’ Alfie apologizes.

‘Yeah, well, you weren’t wrong,’ I tell him. ‘But I’ll only stop acting like a child if you stop acting like an arsehole.’

‘Deal,’ Alfie agrees. I don’t really know what I’ve gotten myself into, but I know it’s worth trying. And maybe, just maybe, I’m going to prove Alfie wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, Tommy and Alfie's honeymoon begins!


	8. Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Alfie indulge in a night of passion and start their investigation into Campbell's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: explicit sexual scenes in the first part of the chapter.

One thing I love about Ireland is that every hotel comes with a pub. And that every pub stocks Irish fucking whiskey.

'Why don't you drink?' I ask Alfie as he sips his tea next to me. We've arrived at our hotel around seven. Too late to do anything productive, too early to go to sleep. So we spent an hour or two in the bar.

'Because, Tommy, when you surround yourself with alcohol, it becomes a business and I find it better for business, right, to conduct it clearheaded. I have seen, with my own eyes, all the terrible fucking things alcohol makes people do and as such, have decided to limit the influence of the devil by becoming the devil myself,' Alfie explains without braking eye contact with me. I know he's not being serious and I want to huff, let him know that his witty answers don't amuse me, but it comes out as a giggle instead. I blame it on the alcohol. A small smile pays on Alfie's lips as he turns back to his tea.

'Right, Tommy, I'm going to catch some shut-eye,' Alfie says then and puts his hand on my thigh. Again.

'Wouldn't mind your company,' he adds, his voice low and dark.

I try to look at him, but he's already stood up and is walking to the counter to pay. Without a second thought, I follow him. He winks at me as he walks back, a subtle smirk on his face and my mind is buzzing, the sweet haze of alcohol mixing with the blood rush of arousal.

I expect Alfie to wait for me by the lift, but instead I'm greeted by closed metal doors. The lift takes forever to get back down and I only realize why when I hear the tell-tale dinging of the lift stopping at every floor. That sly fucking prick.

'Oh, look who decided to finally show up,' Alfie comments when I get to our room on the seventh floor. He’s taken off his shirt and is sitting on the bed, lube and condoms ready on the nightstand. At least he's being clear this time.

'Fuck off,' I answer and Alfie lets out this short happy giggle that warms my heart. I think it’s the first time I heard him laugh like this, relaxed and giddy. But then his eyes meet mine and the warmth moves from my chest to my crotch.

‘You wanted my company?’ I ask, my voice quieter than I expected. Alfie hums in response, his gaze still fixed on me, beckoning to join him. I can feel the tension rising between us. I walk toward him, taking my shirt off in the process. There's no elegance about it, it's just the prospect of pleasure driving me forward.

I quickly find myself on my back, Alfie’s body looming over me and neither me nor my dick have any objections to that. I expected Alfie to get straight to it, but instead he’s taking his sweet-arse time, running his lips across my chest and gently biting at my neck. The feeling of his beard brushing against my skin is new to me, but I love it. It seems to make my skin that bit more sensitive.

I raise my hips to show Alfie that I need more. More contact, more him. He pushes back against me and grunts disapprovingly, but that just spurs me on. I push against his chest, the firm muscles tensing beneath my fingers, but he doesn’t bulge.

‘Alfie,’ I whisper and push again. He seems to finally get the message and moves back. I pull myself up and lean against the pillows in a half-sitting position. Alfie takes the opportunity to get himself out of his trousers and underwear and helps me get rid of mine as well. I don’t have time to dwell on any lingering shame or insecurity as Alfie positions himself between my legs and I immediately hook them behind his back to pull him closer. I close my eyes and focus on the sensations: Alfie’s hand raking through my hair, his lips against the skin on my collarbone, the friction of Alfie’s languid hip thrusts against my erection. He’s drowning me in the very essence of himself and all I can do is get lost in it.

My breath hitches as Alfie tugs me by the hair, exposing my neck to his lips. I probably shouldn’t be so compliant, it’ll go to Alfie’s head, but it just feels so good to let him take initiative and he seems more than willing to do so.

‘Tommy, sweetheart, you look so fucking fuckable,’ Alfie murmurs against my ear and tugs on my earlobe with his teeth. His dark and heady voice makes me shiver and I can’t keep a quiet moan from escaping my lungs.

Suddenly, all of Alfie’s weight is lifted from my body as he reaches over for the lube and condoms. I reposition the pillows to make myself more comfortable. Alfie returns to his rightful spot between my legs, squirts some lube on his fingers and circles around my hole before slowly pushing one finger in. It takes me by surprise, not because I wouldn’t expect it, but because it’s been so long I’ve forgotten what it feels like.

Still, I get used to the sensation soon enough. Alfie goes through the process of opening me up, distracting me from the slightly uncomfortable process by occasional kisses. When he's got two fingers knuckle deep, he starts experimenting with his angles. At this point, I don't even try to hold back vocally. Not that I'm particularly loud, but it's easier if he knows when he hits the spot.

When he manages to get the third finger somewhat in, he decides I'm apparently ready enough, puts the condom on and covers it with lube with a few slow strokes. I watch him through the haze that's clouding my mind and he watches me back, his eyes boring into me, making me feel exposed, but also desired. It's an intoxicating mix of vulnerability and power.

Alfie slowly crawls over me again, keeping his eyes locked with mine as he leans one hand against the headboard and presses against my thigh with the other. He lines up and slowly starts pushing inside. The soft burn makes me squirm, but Alfie's taking it slow, pushing it but by bit, so I have time to adjust. I close my eyes, even out my breathing and force my muscles to relax.

'Fuck, Tommy,' Alfie pants once he's balls-deep, my arsehole throbbing with dull pain of the stretch.

'Yeah,' I agree. Please, fuck Tommy.

Alfie starts a slow rhythm, changing angles until he's consistently hitting my prostate, sending jolts of pleasure to my brain. I try to thrust back, meet him halfway, until he speeds up and the force of his movements keeps pushing me against the headboard. I reach behind his back to steady myself, but the sweat makes it impossible to get a grip. Instead, I take my hand to my cock and start stroking in time with Alfie's thrusts. The palm is wet with Alfie's sweat and in any other circumstance, I would've found that disgusting, but in this moment, I don't care. It even makes the movement that much slicker.

I focus on the sight of Alfie's tensing muscles above me, his sweaty brow, mouth slightly agape in pleasure, his barely audible deep grunts, the merciless pounding of his cock against my prostate that's building up the pleasure in the pit of my stomach.

'Fuck,' Alfie curses and stops for a second, before continuing again, but this time, his movements are more erratic and his breaths lined with a combination of cursing and muttering my name. I know he's going to come soon and I probably will too.

The long groan, followed by a 'fuck' and heavy panting, gives it away. He keeps moving, but it's slow and sloppy. I focus on my cock. It should be any moment now, but I keep stopping, my mind too hazy and my body too strung up to keep up the pace. Alfie notices and takes over, making sure I follow him over the edge. The small whimpers I wasn't aware I was making turn into a moan as the pleasure overtakes me. I feel come hit my stomach and the sensations dulling before my body relaxes and I open my eyes to Alfie’s towering frame. I smile dazedly at him as he carefully pulls out of me. I finally get to stretch my left leg. It feels sore and I notice Alfie’s handprint and a soft pulsing pain where his nails bit into my skin. It shouldn’t feel nice, but it does.

Alfie goes to the washroom and I know I should probably follow, get myself cleaned up, but I can’t bring myself to move just yet. Luckily for me, Alfie returns with a damp towel and I’m just about to take it from him when he swats my hand away and starts cleaning me up. I’m too surprised to do or say anything. Nobody’s ever cleaned my come off of me before. It feels a bit weird at first, but Alfie just quietly hums as he wipes me down. When he’s finished, he throws the towel in the general direction of the washroom and crawls over me back onto the bed. I expect him to just roll over and fall asleep, but instead he makes a satisfied grunt and cuddles next to me, resting his head against my chest. After a moment of surprised hesitation, I put my arm around his back and pull him closer.

‘So that was fun,’ I comment absentmindedly. It’s a stupid comment. Of course it was fucking fun. It’s sex. But I don’t know what else to say.

‘Right, definitely worth keeping,’ Alfie agrees. He smiles at me and winks before nuzzling against my chest again. It feels nice, homey even, being so close to Alfie. We’re both still naked, but there’s no lust or passion behind it, just post-orgasmic bliss and comfortable silence. Alfie’s beard prickles against the skin of my chest with my every breath. I could get used to this.

\---

'Good morning, sunshine,' Alfie's soft voice wakes me up. He's standing next to the bed in his underwear, his tattoos straining over his skin as he stretches. Memories of last night flood my brain and I can't fight the flustered blush that's rising to my cheeks. Alfie gives me a small smirk and moves to open the curtains. For a second, I wish I had a camera to capture the art that is Alfie's figure, framed with the bright light of early Irish morning. It's a stunning sight, one that makes my brain buzz and my stomach flutter. One that makes me want to tell him how beautiful he looks. But I stop myself and gather my composure.

'Morning, Alfie,' I finally answer and he turns around and leans back on the windowsill. I slide out of bed. I am still naked and fully aware that my cock is not flaccid. Not fully erect either, but definitely not flaccid. Alfie is unabashedly watching me, that little smirk playing on his lips again. I make sure to give him a show as I get ready, taking a moment too long to find my underwear and bending just a little too slowly for it to be a coincidence. I can hear Alfie step up behind me and he smacks me on my arse just as I am about to put on my underwear. It's not a hard hit, but it brings out the soreness from last night, making my cock twitch. But then my underwear's on and I swear Alfie looks a bit disappointed.

'What's the plan for today?' I ask while I gather the rest of my clothes and Alfie does the same.

'Right, if all goes well, we spend the morning in the archives and chase leads in the afternoon,' Alfie explains. I've never led an investigation before. I am equally excited and already bored of research.

'Good,' I agree. 'What exactly are we looking for?'

'Anything that might incriminate inspector Campbell. Reports from his investigations, lists of people he worked with, anything shady, really,’ Alfie elaborates and I nod. It’s too vague for my taste, but here’s to hoping we find something.

Alfie insists we eat something before we leave (‘Can’t do research with an empty belly!’), so we make a quick stop in the hotel’s buffet. I sit down and wait while Alfie goes to get his food. He soon comes back with two plates and sets one in front of me. It’s topped with eggs, sausages and a few pieces of toasted bread.

‘Oh, it’s okay, I’m not hungry,’ I explain. I can see him furrow his brow.

‘Tommy, when was the last time you’ve eaten?’ Alfie asks, his dark gaze boring into me. He seems angry and… concerned?

‘Yesterday at lunch,’ I answer. I’ve taken a few bites out of a tuna sandwich Alfie bought for me on the way and then threw it away at the next stop. I hope he hasn’t noticed.

‘You didn’t even finish that sandwich,’ Alfie dissents. I don’t comment. I’m just not hungry, is all.

‘That’s not healthy, Tommy,’ Alfie continues. Anger flares in me. Why can’t people just let it go?

‘Fuck healthy!’ I spit and cross my arms. If I had any intention of eating today, it’s gone now. Alfie just sighs, eats his breakfast and then eats mine as well. By the time he’s finished, my anger has faded, but I still give him a cold shoulder as I smoke in silence on our way to the archives. It doesn’t stop him from talking, though and about half-way there, I find myself nodding to his stories and smiling at his stupid impressions. Damn him and his smooth-talking. I swear, this man is going to be the end of me.

\---

I do not understand Alfie’s fascination with archives. The place is completely empty besides a bored curator who occasionally brings Alfie the documents he needs. Meanwhile, I man the computer and scour the local news for any info. We’re bouncing leads off each other, but most turn out to be dead ends or normal police business.

‘Right, what did you find on the Byrne case, again?’ Alfie asks and I look away from my twenty chrome tabs and rub my eyes.

‘Fucking nothing. Seems normal enough. The guy assaulted a woman and got apprehended by the police. Nothing incriminating,’ I repeat and Alfie hums. We’ve been over this one, but Alfie keeps prodding.

‘What’s the woman’s name again?’ Alfie asks then. I don’t understand why he keeps asking, but I answer anyway.

‘Sarah Clancy,’ I provide. Another hum. Alfie looks at the clock and curses. It’s twelve already. We’ve been here for a while

‘Let’s take a break,’ Alfie suggests and I couldn’t agree more. I’m bored and my back aches and my eyes itch and I need fresh air.

Turns out, Alfie’s idea of a break involves lunch. He takes me to this middle-class restaurant, fancy enough to have a several-course meal, but not fancy enough to have a dress-code. I don’t bother looking at the menu and I can see Alfie notices. Our breakfast conversation comes to mind and I can feel the anger rise inside me again.

‘Hello, I’m going to be your waitress today, what will you be having?’ a perky blonde girl shows up next to our table.

‘What are you going to eat, honey?’ Alfie asks me, his voice sweet and heavy. I huff. I won’t play his games.

‘I’ll have whatever you’re having, sweetheart,’ I answer, looking him straight in the eye. A small smile splays across his lips.

‘Excuse me, may I ask which of the daily menus are kosher?’ Alfie shows the waitress the menu.

‘Oh, of course, sir,’ the waitress responds and takes a quick look at the menu. ‘Menus three and five, sir.’

‘Thank you,’ Alfie says with a nod and takes another look at the menu. ‘Two times menu three, full-course, please.’

‘Certainly,’ the waitress nods, takes out menus and leaves. I scowl at Alfie across the table and he glares back.

‘You know I’m not going to eat anything, right?’ I ask. I hate throwing away food as much as the next guy, but I hate Alfie’s little mind games more.

‘For fuck’s sake, Tommy, could you stop being so bloody stubborn for one fucking second and just take care of yourself,’ Alfie keeps looking at me, that _thing_ in his eyes again.

‘Are you worried about me?’ I ask. Alfie’s features soften.

‘Of course I’m fucking worried, you oblivious git!’ Alfie says incredulously. ‘Your family is going to skin me alive if I bring you home in stage four malnourishment.’

I laugh at that, though it’s true. If anything happens to me, Alfie better watch out for aunt Polly’s wrath.

‘We wouldn’t want that, would we?’ I comment.

‘We most certainly would not,’ Alfie concurs and I can see him smile at me, the kind of smile that reaches his deep green eyes, the kind of smile that I’ve not seen on him before. I don’t know what it is, but something’s changed between us yesterday. I’m seeing the side of Alfie he’s never shown before and it strikes me that I cannot remember all the pointless arguments and preconceptions that kept me from giving this ‘relationship’ or whatever a try.

And when the food comes, I take a few bites, Alfie’s warm smile spurring me on until I finish almost half the food. He almost seems proud of me and even though I know I don’t need his validation, it makes me happy.

‘So what are we doing next?’ I ask when the waitress brings us desert. I push the plate toward Alfie. I haven’t eaten this much in months and I really cannot fathom taking another bite. He takes the plate without a word and I’m grateful for that.

‘I found Sarah Clancy’s address,’ Alfie says with a mouthful of tiramisu. ‘So we’re going to talk to her, right. Just talk. No good cop, bad cop, yeah, just ask her a few questions.’

I furrow my brow. Why is Alfie still pushing the Byrne investigation?

‘What about the Sabini case? Seems like a more promising lead what with the Italians and all,’ I suggest instead.

‘We can check it out tomorrow,’ Alfie agrees. ‘I must admit, there’s not much to it, yeah, and it might be a fucking shot in the dark, but I’ve heard that name before, right. During my time with Edna, right, when my mother was in the hospital for Cyril, someone kept calling the house phone, right. And I was told, by Edna, that I shouldn’t answer the phone, but being a little shithead of a child that I was, I answered it once when Edna wasn’t home, yeah, and there was this woman on the other side. Sarah Clancy, she said she was, and she asked after my mother. I told her: ‘She’s in the hospital, giving birth to my baby brother.’ And this woman on the phone, she started crying, right, fucking bawling and sobbing, I was proper scared, mate. And then she just hung up, no explanation, no anything. Wrote it off as another weird fucking grown-up thing at the time and hadn’t thought about it since until I saw that name again. So, yeah, it might be a shot in the dark and it might not even be the same Sarah Clancy and it might have nothing to do with Campbell, but I think it’s fucking well-worth looking into, eh?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're officially over half way done with this and I hope you're enjoying it so far :D


	9. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Alfie investigate the lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: discussion of forced abortion.

Sarah Clancy’s apartment is about what you’d expect for a lower-class single child-less woman in her sixties. A kitchen-living room hybrid, a bedroom and a bathroom. Furniture old, but functional, décor mostly non-existent. And a much too trusting personality. She lets us in and offers us tea without any hesitation.

‘So, you don’t know me, but I think we’ve spoken before,’ Alfie starts when we settle down around the table.

‘And who might you be, young lad?’ Sarah asks politely and takes a sip of her tea.

‘My name’s Alfie Solomons,’ Alfie introduces himself and pauses to assess Sarah’s reaction. It takes her a few seconds, but it’s clear the name rings a bell.

‘Solomons? As in Mariana Solomons?’ Sarah asks quietly. She seems perplexed.

‘Mariana is my mother, yes,’ Alfie confirms. I have never seen a person go pale this quickly. Sarah looks like she’s about to keel over any moment now.

‘Oh, blimey,’ Sarah exclaims and sets down her cup of tea. I can see her hands shake. They didn’t before. She’s scared and I’m not sure I want to know what happened.

‘If it’s not a problem, may I please know what that phone call was about,’ Alfie asks her. He’s speaking slowly and carefully, not at all the way he usually conducts business. That phone call must’ve seriously shaken him up.

‘Oh,’ she exhales like she’s trying to gather her thoughts, but then she nods nervously. ‘I suppose you deserve to know. I was just calling to try to convince your mother to be stronger than me and, you know, not go through with it.’

‘Through with what?’ Alfie asks, his brow furrowed in concentration.

‘Oh, my, did your mother not tell you?’ Sarah gasps. She seems even more distressed now.

‘Tell me what?’ Alfie prods. I can feel him tense next to me, so I find his hand and take it in my own under the table. I don’t know if it helps, but he intertwines his fingers with mine anyway. Sarah is quiet before she looks away and quietly continues.

‘It might not be my place to tell you, but your mother had an abortion,’ Sarah explains.

'No, that's not true, my mother had a miscarriage,' Alfie simply states. I wince. This can't be easy for him to hear.

'Oh, honey, I wish that were true. You see, it's not her fault, not really,' Sarah tries to elaborate, but Alfie just has this hurt confused look on his face, like he's trying to figure out how to even process the information. I squeeze his hand, but he doesn't squeeze back.

'What do you mean by that?' I ask and Sarah looks at me like she's just now noticing I'm there.

'Well, you see, Mariana and I were both in a very similar situation. She… reached out for me when she found out she was pregnant. You see, the man she was with, he… He was with me before,' Sarah explains quietly. She keeps swallowing and stopping to search for words. This can't be easy for her to talk about.

'You mean Malacki Byrne?' I ask her, referring to the man that got arrested for assault.

'How do you know that name?' Sarah asks then, going even more pale than she already was. Her eyes are wide and full of panic.

'We did some research. It's okay. We're not on anyone's side, we just want to know what happened. There will be no consequences to this talk for you,' I assure her and she seems to calm down a bit. She looks away again.

'No, mister Byrne never touched me,' Sarah confesses quietly. It doesn't make sense. If not him, then who?

'It was… It was mister Campbell,' she sobs then, covering her mouth with a hand. 'He forced me to… to…'

I can feel Alfie tense up against me. He's quiet and unmoving as his brain computes the information. As he figures out that his mother was blackmailed into aborting his baby brother.

Sarah excuses herself as she runs to the bathroom, clearly embarrassed of her emotional outburst, not that she has anything to be embarrassed about. I don't stop her. She'll calm down faster on her own and Alfie clearly needs support now.

'She wouldn't do that,' Alfie says, but his words don't hold any conviction. This whole thing happened when Alfie was a child, when he believed his mother to be incapable of any wrong. Having to change that believe now…

'Alfie,' I call as softly as I can. 'It wasn't her fault. She was forced. Blackmailed.'

Alfie just looks down and shakes her head. I can feel his body start trembling.

'FUCK!' he screams and slams his foot at the ground. It’s a scary outburst, but understandable. I can hear the bathroom door open, but Alfie clearly doesn’t want company. Without any warning, he stands up from his chair and storms out of the apartment.

‘Oh, my,’ I hear Sarah gasp as Alfie’s angry figure stomps by.

I rush after him, stopping briefly to tell Sarah we’ll be right back. She looks like she’s been crying and I feel for her, but right now I’ve got an emotionally unstable grieving boyfriend to take care of. Sarah just nods nervously and I’m out the door.

Alfie’s standing at the bottom of a staircase, facing the wall. There’s an angry grunt and then slam! My heart jumps at the sight of Alfie’s fist hitting the wall.

‘Alfie!’ I exclaim, but he just stands there, breathing heavily with clenched fists, not acknowledging the pain at all. I run toward him.

‘Alfie, are you okay?’ I ask as I practically fly down the stairs. Just as I get to him, he turns and I get a glimpse of seething rage in his eyes before my back slams into something and I find myself sprawled on the stairs, Alfie’s towering figure above me. But the anger seems to be gone, his features ones of shock and regret.

‘Fuck, Tommy,’ Alfie exclaims and rushes to my side. I pull myself to my feet, adrenalin rushing through my veins.

‘I’m alright, I’m alright,’ I reassure him and stretch my back. It hurts a bit, but it’ll pass soon enough. ‘It was an accident.’

Alfie just stands there shaking his head. He looks utterly distressed.

‘I’m so fucking sorry,’ Alfie whispers and there’s something about his voice and posture that makes me step up to him and embrace him. I don’t expect him to return the hug, but he does. He wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my shoulder. When his breathing evens out, I let go.

‘I’m going to kill him,’ Alfie hisses and takes hold of his right hand, clenching and unclenching it around his left thumb. I notice his knuckles are scraped, but I don’t comment. He knows what he did was fucking stupid, no need to call him out on it.

‘Let’s try the legal way first, eh?’ I suggest. ‘We’ve definitely got dirt on that fucker now.’

Alfie huffs and goes up the stairs again. He seems calm enough now that he has a productive goal to funnel his anger into.

‘Oh, you’re back,’ Sarah smiles at us when we get back into her apartment, but the smile has a nervous edge to it.

‘Everything’s alright, miss Clancy, it was just a lot to take in. If it’s not too much of a burden, could you please share with us any sort of evidence you might have of your exchange with mister Campbell? E-mails, messages, even letters?’ I put on my professional demeanour. ‘We are searching for any evidence that might help us rightfully incriminate mister Campbell. As you might know, he is still at large and even holds an important role in Birmingham’s police department. Given your involvement with him, we’re hoping you might feel sympathetic to our cause.’

Sarah looks around the room like she’s thinking about it. I understand her hesitation. By helping us, she’s calling attention to herself. Attention of potentially dangerous people.

‘Well, we mostly talked personally, I guess. There were some e-mails, but I’ve long since deleted them. They reminded me of him and…’ Sarah stammers. I sigh. I feared this was the case.

‘Would you be willing to testify, then?’ I ask and I can immediately see she’s not happy about the idea. ‘Of course, you’d be backed by other evidence and testimonies. But your help could prove to be crucial in our efforts to get this disgusting man off the streets.’

Sarah thinks for a second and I’m just about to offer her time to think about it when Alfie steps in.

‘That _man_ , right, fucked my mother, yeah, he _fucked_ her and then he fucking _killed_ my brother, right! The same way he killed your fucking child! Your unborn baby! And now, right, he’s on his high fucking horse, hiding in the midst of the police force, you know, the fucking ‘we’ll catch and punish the bad guys’ club and he’s protecting some Italian fucking mafioso who stabbed this good man’s girlfriend, yeah!’ Alfie points at me. ‘So excuse us if we’re asking for a simple favour in order to get this fucking scum of the world punished for his crimes. Because if it were up to me, right, that prick wouldn’t be breathing for much longer. But I have been informed, that such is not the way of this world and that it would be frowned upon if not worse if I were to commit a murder, so I kindly ask you from the bottom of my heart if you could just tell the nice judge what you told us so that I do not go to prison for the murder of that fucking cunt.’

Alfie’s been getting ever closer to Sarah. He’s not aggressive per say, not toward her, but she’s scared and on the verge of tears. I don’t blame her, but I do need to deescalate the situation if I want to have a testimony.

‘Alfie, calm down now,’ I say and slowly reach out for his shoulder. He lets his posture fall, but I can feel he’s still on edge. ‘I’m so sorry, miss Clancy, we will be leaving now, but we’d love to stay in touch. I hope you understand how much this testimony would help us.’

Sarah nods and goes to her room, avoiding Alfie in a large arc.

‘What the fuck, Alfie?’ I ask him sternly when she’s out of earshot. ‘What happened to ‘no good cop, bad cop?’’

‘I don’t know, Tommy. She was hesitating,’ Alfie shrugs. I shake my head. His intimidation tactics are way too ingrained in his business model.

Sarah comes back then, a piece of paper in hand. She hands it to me, completely ignoring Alfie’s outstretched hand. On the paper are an email address and a phone number.

‘This is how you can contact me,’ Sarah explains. ‘Please, leave now.’

‘Certainly,’ I agree before Alfie can say anything. ‘Take care, miss Clancy.’

\---

Alright, that’s it, we have to stop avoiding the inevitable.

‘We need to speak to your mother,’ I look up from the book I’m reading. Alfie’s sitting on the bed. He’s taken off his shirt as some sort of a silent protest when I suggested going out to investigate the Sabini case. Needless to say, I haven’t been able to focus on the book much.

Alfie just grunts dismissively and keeps ignoring me. He’s been in a pissy mood ever since we got back and he won’t talk to me. He’s trying to shut me out and I can understand that. But he needs me by his side now.

‘Alfie, talk to me,’ I say softly. Nothing. I close my book and move to the bed. He glances at me but doesn’t say anything. I gently put my hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t brush me off and I count that as a victory.

‘Alfie, love,’ I say before I can stop myself. I can feel Alfie tense up, but I don’t correct myself. I mean it.

‘I know today was a lot, but you shouldn’t bottle these things up,’ I prompt. Alfie finally turns toward me, his expression cold.

‘You’re the one to speak, mister I’m-Not-Hungry,’ he huffs. Yes, I admit I’m not the poster boy for mental health, but he’s just making excuses.

‘Fine. I’m going to order us both room service and we’ll eat dinner together and then we’re going to cuddle up right here on this bed and watch telly together but you’re going to tell me if you start spiralling, yeah?’ I offer.

Alfie grunts some more, but it sounds affirmative enough, so I go fetch us the room service menu and nestle next to him on the bed.

‘What do you want to eat?’ I ask him as I open the menu.

‘Nothing,’ he says mockingly and looks at me intently. I sigh and roll my eyes and for the first time since we entered Sarah Clancy’s apartment there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. If making fun of me helps him cope, I’d let him throw tomatoes at my face.

‘I don’t know, what do they have?’ Alfie asks, seemingly embracing the idea of a dinner.

‘Twenty different types of egg, apparently,’ I answer after a quick glance.

‘That’s the breakfast menu,’ Alfie comments and turns a few pages.

‘Here we go,’ he says when he gets to the dinner section.

Alfie quietly hums as he looks through the list and the vibrations travel from his chest to my body. It feels so calming and homey, I just want to cuddle up next to him and fall asleep.

‘I’ll take the daily fish dish,’ Alfie decides. I quickly assess the options and settle for a Greek salad.

‘Okay, I’ll call,’ I offer. Reluctantly, I leave the bed, find a hotel phone and order our dinner. They say to give it half an hour and I turn to go back to the bed but stop in my tracks. Alfie’s made a cute pillow nest on the bed and is holding up the covers so that I can join him. He looks at me curiously and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. This absolute brute of a man made us a little cosy pillow nest so we can watch tv together. I can’t hold back the smile as I crawl into bed and practically bury myself into Alfie’s side.

Alfie found some old reruns of The Office (the British one) on the telly and it’s exactly what we need right now. Second episode in, there’s a knock on the door.

‘Room service!’ someone shouts in front of the door. I look at Alfie and he looks back at me, but it’s clear form his gaze that he’s not going anywhere.

Leaving the bed is the hardest thing I’ve done today. The room service bloke wheels in the food trolley and turns to me.

‘Which one is yours, sir, the salad or the fish?’ the man asks.

‘The salad,’ I say and the man offers me a plate of greenery and cutlery, wrapped in a napkin.

‘And fish for the lady,’ the bloke continues, takes the other plate and turns toward the bed. He seems to immediately realise his mistake, but Alfie just winks at him.

‘I’m so sorry, sir, I apologize for the mistake,’ the waiter apologizes, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

‘No harm done,’ Alfie assures him and takes the plate.

‘Leave the plates on the table. We will collect them tomorrow morning,’ the waiter explains and quickly leaves the room. As soon as he closes the door, I hear Alfie chuckle.

‘Well, this was the first time I’ve been called a lady,’ he comments. I take my plate of veggies and get back to bed.

‘I don’t know, Alfie. I can see how he’d make a mistake what with that not-at-all-manly beard of yours,’ I tease him. He scoffs and shoves me in my shoulder, sending a few leaves of salad flying across the bed.

‘Fuck,’ Alfie curses as his own way of apology and helps me pick them back up. With the hotel’s giant plates, eating in bed is awkward at best, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s something about Alfie that makes me feel happy and giddy which, knowing myself, is an achievement. Not even Grace managed that. She loved me and I loved her, for sure, but we were always lovers first, friends second. And while I don’t have words to describe whatever _this_ is, it just feels so natural. Like a primal need I’ve been denying myself for years and now finally indulged in it.

By the time we finish eating, The Office reruns get replaced by a boring 80s’ drama, but neither of us cares enough to change the channel. I snuggle up to Alfie, resting my head on his chest, the warmth of his skin enveloping me. He settles his hand in my hair and starts slowly massaging my scalp. I usually don’t let people touch my hair, but I can’t deny I’m thoroughly enjoying this.

After approximately five minutes of trying to focus on the film, I give up and divert my attention to Alfie. Conveniently enough, he also seems to find me preferable to the telly. I break his embrace and move to straddle him. I can feel the energy shift as we look at each other for a few seconds before we close the distance between us. Alfie deepens the kiss and I can feel blood starting to poll in my groin. Once we part, I move to his neck, kissing along the edge of his beard, the fuzzy hairs tickling my cheek. I bite gently and Alfie pliantly leans his head back to expose more of his neck, his soft grunt sending vibrations through my lips.

I experimentally roll my hips against his and he returns the motion, a simple gesture of lust and urgency. His hands push against my shoulders and I sit up. With his help I rid myself of my shirt and I’m about to return to his neck, but his hand on my chest stops me. He takes a moment to look me over then wets his lips. His gaze is an intoxicating mix of admiration and wantonness and when his eyes meet mine, something seems to flare in them. It’s like watching an oncoming train and I am wilfully tied to the tracks.

‘Fuck,’ I whisper, just before Alfie rolls us over and pins my wrists above my head. A wave of arousal washes over me and it scares me how easily I give up all control. Alfie keeps one hand over my wrists, not harshly, just as a sign of dominance, and uses the other to slowly explore my skin. His touches are feather-light, teasing my already heated skin. It’s not fucking enough. I writhe underneath him, trying to get more contact, but Alfie grunts disapprovingly and the sound itself makes me stop.

‘You’re fucking gorgeous like that, you know that?’ Alfie murmurs and lets go of my wrists. I keep them there. Alfie’s light touches are replaced by his lips as he kisses his way from my waist to my neck, stopping briefly at my nipples. It takes all my willpower to not bury my hands into his hair.

There's something in the background, a sound demanding attention. It's hard to focus on it in my haze. But it seems important.

'Alfie, the phone,' I tell him, but he does seem to acknowledge anything, too busy playing with my right nipple.

'Fuck,' I curse. I don't want to do this. I push Alfie away from my body, much to his protest.

'The phone,' I repeat and he finally seems to notice the ringing from his coat pocket. He makes a displeased grunt and crawls out of the bed. Whatever's going on, it better be fucking important.

'What?' Alfie angrily answers the call and puts it on speaker.

'Alfie, you need to come home,' I hear Ollie's exasperated voice. 'Arthur's lost his shit and Angel's in the hospital.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur Shelby, the ultimate cockblocker.


	10. Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Alfie deal with a newly arisen situation and talk to Alfie's mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: talk about forced abortion.

The drive home is a blur of sleep and wakefulness. Alfie and I exchange the driving wheel every few hours so the other one can get some shuteye. The motorway is almost empty at this time of night and the car is eerily quiet. After the initial string of curses and general threats, Alfie enveloped himself in silence. Even on the ferry, he just found a chair and fell asleep on it and I soon followed. It was a restless sleep, partly because of the rocking of the ferry and partly because of recent events. What the fuck were you thinking, Arthur?

When we get back to Birmingham, my body feels as if it’s been trampled. All I want to do is find an actual bed and get some actual sleep. When we approach the Alpha house, however, we are greeted by a very concerned Ollie and a very excited Cyril. Alfie takes his time to pet the dog before turning his attention to his right-hand man.

‘Arthur’s here,’ Ollie explains as he ushers us through the back door. Great. Arthur’s here. So much for sleep.

Arthur is indeed in Alfie’s room, pacing up and down, visibly distraught. He stops in his tracks when he sees us enter.

‘Hello, Arthur,’ I greet and step up to him. I’m not angry but there’s an edge to my voice that I am too tired to hide.

‘Tommy, I’m so fucking sorry,’ Arthur apologizes, looking at me with those panicked eyes. At least he knows he fucked up.

‘Yeah?’ I nod. ‘What the fuck did you do, eh?’

‘I can tell you what he fucking did,’ Alfie cuts in and it and Arthur glares at the man. Alfie glares back, an angry flare to his gaze. I keep a careful eye on both of them. This whole situation is a disaster waiting to happen.

‘Up until yesterday, right, we had an upper hand. Not much of an upper hand, I’ll admit, but we had something, yeah, and that something is the fact that Changrettas did not fucking care. Angel fucked up, so they called the coppers on you to let you know that they fucking own the police, right. È fatto. Case fucking closed as far as Luca is concerned. And now your pillock of a brother fucking made this personal, Tommy. And you won’t like it when the fucking mafia makes things personal,’ Alfie goes on, his voice raising as he tries to convey the gravity of the situation.

‘I understand, Alfie, but what’s done is done. We’ll deal with the situation as problems arise,’ I try my best to calm him down. But Alfie has a point. We’re fucked now. Luca is notorious for taking grudges way too fucking far. I try not to show my panic, but I think Alfie sees it anyway.

‘All because some fucking wanker just had to have a fucking punch-up with Mr. Mafia’s little brother,’ Alfie mumbles and shakes his head, but it’s clearly loud enough for Arthur to hear.

‘Hey, I had a good reason, alright?’ Arthur protests, but there is no conviction in his voice. Alfie just huffs at that.

‘And what, pray tell, might this good reason be, eh?’ I bite. Unless beating Angel up stopped World War III from happening, it wasn’t worth it. But I’ll give my brother a chance to explain himself.

‘Angel… He was following Finn. From school. I saw him standing by his car, right, when I went to pick up Finn from school. He was just standing there, watching the children like a fucking perv. It just… It just made my blood boil, Tommy,’ Arthur stammers. I will admit that the thought of Angel keeping tabs on Finn perturbs me a bit, but it’s not surprising. It’s still a stupid reason to beat him up, though. Noble, but stupid.

‘So you beat Angel up, fucking mauled him, right, just because he was following your little brother? Are you fucking daft, mate?’ Alfie asks incredulously. Arthur trebles a bit, but bites back whatever response he wanted to spit out. Clever. He looks genuinely sorry and I can’t really be mad at him. It’s how he is and no matter how much I’ve tried to make him think before he punches, it obviously hasn’t worked.

‘Is Finn alright?’ I ask instead. I am guessing he is, but if something happened, Arthur might be trying to avoid the topic.

‘Yes, he’s alright. I don’t think he saw me fight,’ Arthur answers. That’s good. I don’t want to bring Finn into this mess, even just as a witness.

‘Alright. Go back home before the sun comes up,’ I tell him and Arthur vigorously nods, relieved that the interrogation is over. He quickly leaves the room and Ollie goes with him to let him out.

I sigh and rub my eyes. What a fucking mess. I can feel the adrenalin leaving my body and tired ache settling in. But before I can even get to bed, my burner phone starts vibrating. I look at the number in confusion. I don’t know it, but I decide to answer anyway. I don’t say anything and wait for the voice on the other side.

‘Hello, Tommy,’ I hear through a crackle. Dark, raspy voice. Thick Italian accent. Slow, drawn out words. Fuck.

I don’t answer and after a few seconds of silence, the voice continues.

‘See, Tommy, you might think that you’re smart for hiding away with Alfie, but I assure you: I know where you are, I know where your family is and what happened to my brother will not go unanswered, my friend. Vendetta will come for you,’ Luca says. It’s a very thinly vailed threat, but I’m too careful to simply call it bluff. How the fuck did Luca even get this number? The only people who knew it were Moss and my family.

Before I can answer, the line breaks and soft ringing fills my ears. It’s a show of power, this whole thing. I pocket the phone and make my way to the bed in silence. I know Alfie heard everything, but he doesn’t comment either.

‘You’ve got an hour. Bourn View Care Home opens at eight,’ Alfie says and leaves the room. He seems tense and I don’t want him to leave, but I’m too tired to protest and sleep soon overtakes me.

\---

When I wake up, my head is pounding. It takes me a minute to figure out where I am and what time it is. I was only asleep for sixteen minutes. Alfie isn’t back yet.

I lay on the bed and look at the ceiling for a few minutes. We don’t have the luxury of time anymore. Not that we had it before, but now I know I won’t feel safe until this thing is done. I also need to check up on my family. At least on Polly. She can do the rest. And I need to call Moss.

I pull myself out of bed and find my phone. Polly answers quickly, she’s already up, apparently. It’s really nice to hear her voice again. She assures me that she contacts the family on daily bases. She’s assigned John and Ada to visit every other day. She says Arthur’s really sorry, that he cried when he came to her to tell her what happened. He called the ambulance himself, then ran away from the scene. Angel is apparently still on ICU, but he’ll pull through. At least that’s good. I don’t know what I’d do without Polly.

I call Moss then, but he doesn’t answer. I try not to panic. He might just be asleep or on duty or in hiding. But there’s a bitter aftertaste when the ringing goes unanswered. I decide to go look for Alfie instead.

The Alpha frat house is mostly still asleep. Some students who have early classes are walking about, getting their breakfasts and washing up, but there’s no use hiding. Luca knows where I am.

I go to Ollie’s room and knock. It takes a bit, but eventually Ollie opens the door. He’s sleepy and shirtless, his hair in disarray. It’s on odd sight. He always seems so impeccably presentable that you’d expect him to sleep in his suit.

‘Yes, Tommy?’ he asks. He’s not angry, but it’s obvious I pulled him out of bed and he doesn’t like that.

‘I’m looking for Alfie,’ I state.

‘He took Cyril out on a walk. He does that when he’s upset,’ Ollie explains. Of course. He chose the fucking dog over me.

‘Where does he usually walk him?’ I ask. I could just wait for him, but there’s something in me that wants to follow him.

‘Up to the science building, usually. He likes the peace,’ Ollie answers and I nod. I thank him and leave the Alpha house.

The science building is about ten minutes away and in the opposite direction than the Epsilon house. The weather is nice outside and it makes me wonder when the last time I just took a walk was.

I reach the science building without seeing Alfie or Cyril anywhere. Maybe they’ve gone back already. I decide to circle around the building, just in case. Indeed, I find them in the back of. I see Cyril first, trotting through the meadow. Alfie’s sitting on the grass, calling the dog to him and Cyril picks up the pace. Just before the two would collide, the dog veers away, makes a circle around Alfie and then practically throws himself onto the man as he lays down. Alfie chuckles and starts petting the dog. It’s a lovely sight and any grudges I might’ve held toward the dog are completely gone.

‘Who’s a good boy?’ I hear Alfie address his dog as I approach.

‘I would hope I am,’ I can’t help but answer. Alfie looks toward me. He seems confused for a moment and then worry fills his eyes.

‘Tommy, what are you doing here? Are you fucking insane?’ Alfie asks. I admit, I expected a different welcome. He fucking disappeared and he didn’t assume I’d come looking for him?

‘Not any more than usual, no. What’s wrong?’ I answer, trying to keep to mood of the conversation light.

‘What if Luca found you? You can’t just walk around the campus alone like that,’ Alfie insists. I know he’s just worried, but he has no reason to be.

‘So, what, I’m a prisoner now? Do I have to leave in fear and not leave the house at all?’ I retort. ‘Luca knows where I am, there’s no use avoiding him now. If he wanted to do something, he would.’

I can see Alfie’s breathing calm down. Why does he care so much?

Alfie averts his attention back to the dog and I sit down next to him.

‘So you ran away to vent your problems on your dog, eh?’ I ask. It’s not malicious, I just want to start a conversation.

‘Yeah, well, he’s a great listener, right. Offers very supporting silence as well,’ Alfie explains. I don’t know if he’s trying to insinuate that he wants silence, but he also doesn’t do anything to push me away, so I stay.

‘Yeah? Well, I’m a great listener too, you know,’ I comment and Alfie smiles. ‘You can talk to me. About anything. I know you’re scared of seeing your mother again. I know you’re not sure how to feel about all of this. But it’s okay to talk. And it’s okay to sit in supportive silence. Just know I’m here for you.’

I don’t know where all of this is coming from, but I just want him to not feel alone, to not have to rely on a dog for comfort, no matter how adorable the result might be. Alfie just nods and keeps petting the dog, but that’s enough for me. I join him with the pets and Cyril doesn’t seem to have any objections to it. For such a large beast, he sure is a sweetheart.

‘Alright, it’s almost eight,’ Alfie says after a few minutes. He stands up and helps me up as well. Instead of letting me go, though, he pulls me close and gives me a kiss. It’s short and chaste and it takes me completely by surprise.

‘Thank you,’ Alfie whispers when our lips part. It’s a simple gesture, but it fills me with a strange feeling of tranquillity. In these last few days, we’ve grown closer than I ever anticipated, but I am just now realizing how good that is. Because right now the world is crumbling for the both of us and all we can do is cling to each other and fucking jump.

\---

Alfie’s mother looks like shit. Not in a ‘she’s ugly’ kind of way. She looks tired and lonely and withering. She’s not even that old but fighting through the wreck of her life alone left some marks. I can feel the guilt practically emanating from Alfie. I give his shoulder a supportive squeeze.

‘I’ve spoken to Sarah Clancy,’ Alfie states. His mother looks at him, but her stare shows no recognition of the name.

‘I don’t know who that is, my sweet boy,’ she says instead. There is nothing but love and acceptance in her voice and Alfie closes his eyes for a second. It almost seems like he’s biting back tears.

‘She’s that woman you contacted when you were pregnant. For Cyril,’ Alfie explains. The realization hits Mrs. Solomons face, a moment of pure terror as repressed memories flood her brain. But then she seemingly collects herself.

‘Oh, Alfie, you needn’t worry about that,’ she says and I can see Alfie’s eyes narrow.

‘But I do, right, because some fucking cunt fucking raped my mother and then killed her baby! Do you understand how fucked up that is?’ Alfie erupts. His mother just watches and waits for him to calm down. Seems like she’s familiar with her son’s outbursts.

‘Alfie, do watch your language,’ she scolds him. It’s a trite comment, but it seems to remind Alfie who he’s talking to.

‘Fuck, mom,’ Alfie continues. ‘Why didn’t you fucking tell me?’

‘Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t want to burden you. You were a child. And later it just didn’t seem important. I’ve dealt with it, there was no use crying over spilled milk,’ Mrs. Solomons says calmly. Given her earlier expression, I doubt the extent she’s dealt with things, but I’m not sure you can ever truly deal with something like this.

‘Spilled milk? What fucking spilled milk? It’s your baby we’re talking about!’ Alfie keeps pushing, but his mother doesn’t flinch. She furrows her brow and looks sternly at Alfie.

‘Yes, and going through with the abortion was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I cried over Cyril for months. Every day after you went to sleep. And you were the only thing keeping me in this world. So don’t you speak to me in this tone, Alfie. There’s nothing you can do now. Cyril is dead,’ she says, her voice trebling and her expression dark. And it’s in that moment that Alfie realizes how helpless he is. Yes, he can try to get revenge, he can try to get that sleazy bastard off the streets, but he can’t bring Cyril back. He can’t bring Sarah’s baby back. And for a moment, Alfie’s anger fades into sadness. I grip his hand to ground him, but he seems lost in his thoughts.

‘I’m sorry, we did not mean to bring all those memories back, but we’re trying to get Chester convicted and we’re searching for evidence. I know you don’t want to relive this and you don’t want to see him, but your testimony or any evidence would really help us with that,’ I say calmly. I feel like I’m infringing on family matters, but I will let them talk things through after this is done.

‘Excuse me, but we haven’t introduced properly. Who might you be, love? Alfie’s lawyer?’ she asks. The inquiry takes me by surprise. It is such an innocently worded question.

‘He’s Tommy, my boyfriend,’ Alfie states defiantly. It’s the first time he’s publicly referred to me like that, but it seems natural.

‘Oh… Oh, dear,’ Mrs. Solomons exclaims then. Oh, for fuck’s sake. I see where this is going. Why can’t people just accept others no matter who they love?

‘This is really not a nice occasion to meet my son’s suitor,’ she continues. Oh. Not where I thought this was going.

‘We’ll get dinner together when all this is done,’ I regain my composure. ‘But I want you to think about the testimony. I am going to let you talk to your son alone now.’

‘Thank you, Tommy,’ she says and with a quick ‘Be civil!’ to Alfie, I leave the room.

About half an hour later, Alfie and his mom join me in the hallway. Mrs. Solomons informs me that she’s agreed to testify but warns us to be careful. She then recalls some of her conversations with Chester. They’re abhorrent. Insults and humiliation, mixed with blatant threats, not just to her but to Edna, even Alfie. But Chester always called, often from unknown numbers. No texts and Mrs. Solomons didn’t use e-mail at the time. But she gives us a contact for the doctor who performed the abortion procedure. It’s a long shot, but it’s the only lead we have.

‘Thank you, Mrs. Solomons,’ I say before we take our leave.

‘Please, call me Mariana,’ she insists. I nod. I really hope to get to know this woman better when the time permits.

‘And come visit more often, my sweet boy,’ she says to Alfie and gives him a long tight hug. I can see Alfie smile. It’s a sad smile, one of regret and relief at the same time.

‘I will,’ he promises. It’s a quiet whisper, meant only for his mother’s ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at them, being supportive bfs and all :D


	11. Caravan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Alfie investigate the doctor and run into trouble.

I should’ve seen it coming. I really should’ve. But I underestimated him. It’s not the first time I’ve seen a gun, but it’s the first time I believe the person holding it is actually crazy enough to shoot someone.

\---

It doesn’t take us long to track down doctor Clarke. He’s retired at this point, but we find his flat easily enough. He seems cautious but he lets us in eventually. He’s visibly old and his flat is spotless. The furniture is minimalistic and relatively new. It’s about what you’d expect form a retired doctor.

‘So, you’re looking for specific data about a patient of mine?’ doctor Clarke asks.

‘Yes. You performed an abortion on her,’ I explain.

‘I performed a lot of abortions. And I can’t give you my patient’s personal information,’ Clarke insists. I sigh. I understand all that, but it might be a good thing to get him on our side in case we need him to provide concrete evidence of the procedure.

‘Well, could you at least confirm that the procedure took place? We have information that the patient was coerced to undergo abortion. Not by you, of course. We’re not asking you to divulge patient’s personal information, but your cooperation would help us a lot in this case,’ I push. The doctor furrows his brow. He seems shaken.

‘Oh, that’s horrible! Look, I’ll help as much as I can. I’ll get my files and I can try to find the patient you’re talking about. I’ll just be a minute. Please, feel free to wait on the couch,’ the doctor agrees and disappears somewhere in the flat. I sit down and Alfie sits next to me. He seems on edge but he’s been like that since we got back from Belfast.

‘What’s wrong, love?’ I ask him. I’ve been a lot more comfortable with our relationship since meeting his mother. It was a milestone that made the whole thing seem official.

‘Nothing. I just have a bad feeling about this. What’s a fucking doctor going to do? He doesn’t have anything to do with the case,’ Alfie grumbles. He didn’t want to come here, but he also didn’t want me to go alone ‘in case that lunatic comes after you’. He’s been by my side almost constantly.

‘He can provide official documents of the procedure. Everything falls apart if we cannot prove there actually was an abortion on the first place,’ I insist. Better safe than sorry. Alfie grunts in response. I really hope this will be over soon. I just want to relax, spend some time with my family, with Alfie. But first, we need to deal with this whole shitshow.

‘What’s her name?’ doctor Clarke asks once he returns with a couple of thick books and puts them on a coffee table. Patient records, I assume.

‘Mariana Solomons,’ Alfie says. The doctor pulls out one of the books and starts searching. He scans the pages, goes back and forth a couple of times and then furrows his brow.

‘I’m sorry, it seems she’s not in my books,’ the doctor admits.

‘Have you ever performed surgeries off the record?’ I ask cautiously, but I’ve apparently hit a nerve. The doctor’s face darkens.

‘I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I can assure you everything I’ve done is legal and recorded,’ doctor Clarke protests.

‘I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. I was just wondering if there could perchance be a mistake here. We have just recently talked to the patient and she is quite certain you were the one who performed the surgery,’ I insist. Mrs. Solomons told us Campbell got her the doctor and paid for the procedure. It would make sense for such an arrangement to be made off the record to avoid a paper trail. And it also makes sense for the doctor to try and hide that.

‘Look, I keep everything in these books. If she’s not here, I didn’t operate on her. Maybe it was a different doctor Clarke?’ the doctor proposes and for a moment I entertain the idea but I quickly shake my head. We’ve run his name over Mrs. Solomons and she confirmed it.

‘I’m sorry but I don’t know how to help you,’ doctor Clarke apologizes, his features softening.

‘Do you mind if I look through these books?’ Alfie asks then, taking hold of one of them. The doctor quickly takes the book away from Alfie.

‘Yes, I mind. This is confidential information. The Hippocratic Oath prevent me from…’ the doctor starts, but Alfie stands up and turns to me.

‘Let’s go, Tommy,’ he says quietly. I look at him in confusion and then at the doctor. The doctor seems bewildered, panicked even. And then it dawns on me.

I quickly stand up and without saying goodbye, I follow Alfie out of the flat. But we don’t get that far. Just as Alfie’s about to open the front doors they open from the other side and we’re face to face with one very angry looking Luca Changretta.

Fuck. It’s the last person I want to see right now. I hear a faint click behind us and realize the doctor has locked the doors. It all makes sense now, the denial, the stalling, the act…

‘Look, look, look. What do we have here? A little late for a doctor’s visit, don’t you think?’ Luca says with that slimy, drawn-out voice of his.

‘Drop the fucking act, Changretta. You know why we’re here, right. We have no fucking quarrel with your fraternity or even your fucking mafia, yeah, but you’re protecting some fucked up people,’ Alfie growls. I can feel the tension in his posture. It’s anger, sure, but there’s a hint of fear that he’s trying really hard to hide.

‘You see, Solomons, the deal I have with Inspector Campbell is extremely beneficial to my family. And you know how much I treasure my family. And that really puts us in a very awkward position, because, as I’m sure you already know, your boyfriend here…’ Luca says and turns toward me. There’s a weird glint in his eyes and I don’t like it.

‘… is part of the reason my brother is currently in a coma, fighting for his life,’ Luca finishes. He reaches under his coat and before I can process what’s going on, he’s pointing a cocked gun at me. His hands are steady – definitely not the first time he’s held a weapon. But it’s also not my first time being held at gunpoint. It’s an unnerving sight that instantly makes you sweat, but I try my best to remain calm and even out my breathing. I can feel Alfie tense up even more. It’s a volatile situation and currently, Luca’s got the upper hand.

‘Well, your brother did stab my girlfriend,’ I protest calmly. I know I need to proceed with caution, but I can’t let him have this. I need to irritate him just enough for him to lose focus and then Alfie and I can take our chance.

‘Yes, Grace, wasn’t it? You moved on quickly enough, though,’ Luca comments. I huff. Yes, I moved on quickly, but I’ve never been the one to linger on things that don’t hold potential. It’s bad for business.

‘That was a mistake on my brother’s part. He was drunk and upset. What your brother did – that was on purpose. Another try to dismantle me and my family,’ Luca spits. He really overestimates Arthur’s intentions.

‘You’re fucking paranoid,’ I shake my head. ‘No wonder you sent your little brother to do your dirty work. That’s what you get for spying on my family.’

I can see Luca’s hand tremble and my breath hitches. I don’t doubt he’d shoot but I don’t think he’d kill me.

‘How do you sleep at night, knowing that your brother came this close to being a murderer, huh?’ Luca shouts. He is getting angry now. Sloppy. Alfie shuffles on his feet next to me.

‘Like a fucking baby,’ I retort.

The sound of the gunshot is deafening in the limited space of the hallway, but a scream still manages to penetrate the ringing in my ears. My scream. The pain numbs my thoughts and it takes me surprisingly long to realize I’ve been shot. The bullet just grazed my leg, but the pain is probably the worst I’ve ever experienced. I lean against the wall and apply pressure to the wound. I can feel my trousers getting soaked with blood under my fingers.

I vaguely notice Alfie lunge toward Luca and brace myself for another gunshot but instead, I hear Luca curse as Alfie manages to disarm him. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before Alfie lets go of Luca and instead kicks the gun through the gap of the staircase railing. Luca wisely takes that opportunity to scramble backwards and escape down the stairs. I half expect Alfie to go after him, but he turns to me instead.

‘Fuck, Tommy, Are you alright?’ Alfie asks me. Now that the immediate threat is over, I can feel the pain intensifying, but I still nod. I don’t want him to worry about me. I got lucky. But when Alfie moves my hand away to take a look, I can’t help but to squirm as a sharp pain sears through me.

‘I’m going to kill him!’ Alfie hisses but I shake my head. I need him to stay focused.

‘We have to get out of here,’ I comment. Someone must’ve heard the gunshot and called the police. A good thing, normally, but in my particular situation, Inspector Campbell is about the last person I want to meet.

‘Wait, let me take a look at that,’ I hear someone say behind me. Doctor Clarke is standing by the door with a first aid kit in his hands. My first instinct is to spit at him and leave, but I might actually need his help.

‘Right, give me that,’ Alfie says and takes the first aid kit from the doctor. Clarke looks baffled, but he doesn’t fight it. Alfie carefully cuts the fabric around my wound and then takes a few antiseptic wipes to clean up, avoiding the wound itself. It still hurts but I’m focusing on his mesmerizing movements and it helps a little bit. Alfie takes out some gauze and firmly wraps it around my leg. I try to bite down the sounds of pain, but a few hisses still escape me. Alfie starts whispering meaningless little reassurances, partly to me and partly to himself. His previous anger has evaporated and his face is now one of focus and compassion. Once he’s done, he throws the first aid kit back to the doctor who wordlessly catches it and goes back inside. I try to hoist myself up, but it’s too painful.

‘Hey, Tommy, settle down,’ Alfie says and helps me up. I lean onto him and hobble out of the flat. The pain is better now that I have something to focus on. And then I hear loud hurried steps going up the stairs. Fuck. I try to hobble faster, but then my feet are suddenly off the floor as Alfie lifts me up and carries me to the lift. The steps are getting closer, but we manage to get to the lift before they can see us.

‘Alright, we’ll go to the garage. If it’s the police, they’re probably guarding the lift,’ Alfie says and I nod against his chest. He could’ve put me back down, I can’t be that easy to carry, but he keeps holding me close and I think there’s more of a psychological need for that then a physical one. The lift stops when we get to the garage and Alfie quickly finds a way out.

‘Aberama,’ I say when we’re finally in our car.

‘What?’ Alfie looks at me in confusion.

‘We can’t go back to the campus. Changretta’s angry and unpredictable. We can go to Aberama Gold. He’s just outside Birmingham with his caravan. He can take us in,’ I propose. I can see Alfie’s eyes narrow.

‘No offence, right, but I don’t really feel like getting fucking stabbed at night, yeah? Can’t we just go to a fucking hotel, eh?’ Alfie complains. I huff. I know he doesn’t mean it and, to be fair, his view is not entirely unexpected, but it still stings a bit.

‘I’ve just been shot. There’s no hotel we can go to where they won’t ask questions,’ I counter and after a few seconds he hums affirmatively.

‘Alright, Tommy, I’ll fucking trust you. But if I wake up in the morning, right, naked and robbed, in the middle of fucking nowhere with the pikeys gone, I’m coming after you,’ Alfie grumbles and starts the car.

‘You’re going to wake up naked, alright, if I have anything to do with it,’ I comment. It’s no use chastising Alfie on his prejudice. He’ll make his own picture when we get to the camp.

‘Nah, not tonight. You’re fucking wounded,’ Alfie dismisses me.

‘I _am_ fucking wounded. I’m wounded that you’d think a simple gunshot would stop me,’ I tease and look at him. He glances at me and groans.

‘So, where to?’ he asks and looks back to the road. I lead him out of the city until we see a field of caravans in the distance. It’s getting dark outside, but there’s a couple of fires going in the camp. I smile at the sight. I haven’t really been travelling with the caravans much, but it still feels homey.

When we get out of the car, Alfie is in a grumpy mood again. We slowly approach the caravans, me leaning on Alfie’s shoulder and hobbling along. I can see a couple of figures coming toward me. The long hair, the fedora… He still looks exactly as I remember him.

‘Aberama!’ I greet the approaching figures.

‘Well, if it isn’t Tommy Shelby? How is our city boy doing?’ Aberama calls back.

‘I’ve had some trouble,’ I answer when I get closer. ‘We need a place to stay.’

Aberama nods but looks at Alfie suspiciously.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ he asks Alfie. I can feel him tense beside me.

‘Who the fuck am I?’ Alfie retorts.

‘Who the fuck is this?’ Aberama instead turns to me, completely unfazed.

‘I, my friend, I am the reason that your city boy is fucking alive, yeah. Because, if you haven’t noticed, right, he’s been fucking shot. So if I were you, I’d go get a doctor or a witch or whatever have you and give us some semblance of a bed to get some rest, eh?’ Alfie introduces himself. Aberama looks entirely unimpressed.

‘He’s a friend. We can trust him,’ I add and Aberama nods again.

‘Sam, go get Patia and bring her to Charlie’s caravan,’ Aberama turns to his son who runs off.

‘Charlie’s in the city for a while, selling his scrap, so his caravan is empty. You can use it. We’ll also station a guard in front of your caravan, just in case. And you’re welcome to eat with us. Both of you,’ Aberama explains and leads us to what appears to be Charlie’s caravan. It seems old, but it’s functional. Patia arrives a few minutes later. I vaguely remember her, although she’s older now. She’s the clan’s healer. Studied a few years of medicine but dropped out when the clan was chased out of town.

‘Alright, Tommy, let me see that,’ she says and slowly unwraps my bandage. By this point, I’ve gotten used to the constant throbbing pain and the blood has stopped gushing out. Patia takes a cloth and soaks it with a clear liquid from an unmarked bottle. Probably some sort of a sprit. I know what’s coming but it still doesn’t prepare me for the pain. The burning sensation completely envelopes my body and I can feel my eyes getting watery. I grit my teeth to muffle the screams.

‘It’s alright, Tommy, just hold on a little bit longer,’ Alfie whispers next to me and wipes the tears from my eyes. I hate for him to see me like this. We both put up these facades of how strong and invincible we are, but when it comes down to it, we’re both just made of flesh and bones. It makes me feel vulnerable.

Eventually, Patia is done with disinfecting and somehow produces some seemingly clean gauze to rewrap my wound.

‘There’s not much I can do for you, boy, but it should heal on its own. I’ll have Sam bring you some morphine. But take only a spoonful. The stuff will knock you down cold,’ Patia says and leaves the caravan. I’m not sure I’m at the stage I’d need morphine, but I won’t turn it down either.

‘Well, I’ll go get us some food. Stay here,’ Alfie decides then and gets up from my side.

‘It’s alright, Alfie, I’m not hungry,’ I say. I actually wouldn’t mind some food, I just really don’t want Alfie to leave. Alfie just shakes his head, though, and gets out of the caravan. There’re sounds coming from outside, people talking and singing. It’s how I remember it, never a moment of silence here.

Alfie soon enough comes back with two plates of some sort of goulash. I gratefully take it and start eating.

‘I don’t think these people of yours like me very much,’ Alfie comments.

‘What did you do?’ I ask. Yes, they’re not keen on outsiders, but they shouldn’t be hostile.

‘I asked them, right, if the meat is kosher, like any meat should be, yeah, and they just fucking laughed at me,’ Alfie complains. Of course he goes around asking gypsies if the meat if fucking kosher.

‘What the fuck did you expect?’ I ask him.

‘What? It’s a legitimate question. As a Jew, right, I have a right to know if my meat is fucking approved by God,’ Alfie protests.

‘I don’t know if your meat is approved by god, but it’s definitely approved by me,’ I say teasingly and wink at him.

‘Oh, fuck off,’ Alfie laughs and shakes his head. It’s been one hell of a fucking day, but ironically, I feel safe for the first time since this all began. Not because I’m with the gypsies or because the investigation is almost over, but because I have him. And there’s no doubt in my mind anymore. He’s got my back and I’ve got his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly more actiony chapter, this one. Now for a moment of respite, before trouble catches up with them again.


	12. Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Alfie take a moment of respite to indulge in each other and plan the course of action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: explicit sexual content.

I wake up to the bright of day, obviously an effect of the morphine. I can hear people talking outside and remember where I am. Alfie's nowhere to be found. We fell asleep together yesterday but that's as much as I can remember. He must've gotten bored or hungry and went outside to join the people.

The pain is bearable. It's there, constantly, but I can walk without limping now.

I stumble outside to find Alfie. I hear him before I see him. He's retelling his stories of wild drunken parties, a group of children listening closely to his every word. He doesn't seem to notice me as I step closer and lean on one of the caravans.

'So then, right, the girl fucking slaps his face, yeah, it was an amazing sight. He deserved it, really, the fucking cheating arsehole. Didn't even have the decency to find a room when he fucking rammed that other slag in the middle of the party. Drugs will do that to you, kids, they'll take your decency and leave you with the brain the size of a marble. You know that, right, when you do drugs, your brains actually shrink, yeah, down to the size of a fucking coin,' Alfie rambles.

'No, they don't,' one of the children laughs at Alfie's nonsense.

'They absolutely do,' I join in on the conversation. Better to scare them when they're young than have them grow up to be a bunch of junkies.

'Tommy,' Alfie stands up and turns to me. 'Scaring off your potential costumers?'

'Shhh,' I shush him. The adults know where my money comes from, but there's no need for the kids to know. Granted, most of them have never seen me before.

'What are you doing out of bed, mate?' Alfie asks once he's next to me, a hint of disapproval in his voice. I never expected him to be so worried.

'I'm fine, Alfie,' I assure him, but he's already put my arm around his shoulder to support me. For fuck's sake, I can walk fine by myself. But I let it go. There's some sort of intimacy in the gesture that I don't want to dismiss.

'You're not fucking fine. Let's get you back to bed and then I'll go get the witch,' Alfie decides and I let him half-carry me across the campsite.

Patia comes minutes later and rewraps my wound. It looks clean and healing to me and Patia seems to agree.

'It should be completely healed in a matter of days. I'd stay off morphine if you can and take it easy for a few days,' she says before leaving our camper.

'You heard the witch,' Alfie says as if that somehow proves his point. I want to stand up but Alfie's disapproving look stops me.

'I _am_ taking it easy, Alfie. If it were up to me, I'd be pushing the investigation further. The sooner we end this the sooner I can actually relax. But I'm here, aren't I?' I protest as I lay down on the bed again. Alfie looks at me and smiles.

'That you are, that you are. And while you've been having morphine induced fever dreams of me dancing naked around your bed, I've been writing some emails. I contacted Sarah, right, explained the situation. She said she'll contact witness protection. They'll provide her with a secure video connection for the trial. Then I called Polly, and I asked her, right, if my mother could go stay with her and gracious as she is, that aunt of yours, she agreed to take my poor mother in. Because, you see, if I were Luca Changretta, right, and I knew that my enemy is gathering evidence against me, yeah, I'd want that evidence fucking gone. And I know your family isn't exactly off the fucking radar but there's some safety in numbers, right. So, then I wrote a rather lengthy paragraph to my mother, catching her up to date with this miserable existence we call life and I gave her Polly's contacts,' Alfie explains and I nod. At least things are getting ready for the trial.

'Your mother and Polly together in one room. That'd be a sight,' I laugh. I can imagine it, two upright, stubborn women drinking their wine and complaining about us boys, ruining their afternoons with our crime-solving and dashing about.

'Oh, they'll get along great. They'd have to sit together at the wedding after all,' Alfie comments. I know he's not serious, but his words take me by surprise.

'Wedding?' I ask curiously.

'It's a joke, Tommy,' Alfie says and for a moment he seems surprised, like the words slipped from his mouth without his intention. I nod and let it go. A wedding really isn't something that'd be big on my mind right now.

'Alfie, come here,' I tell him. He seems to hesitate but slowly approaches me.

'If I can't leave the bed then at least join me,' I propose and look at him as innocently and pleadingly as I can. I know the camper bed is small and uncomfortable. He's been complaining about it constantly yesterday evening. But I'm being selfish and I want cuddles.

'Fine,' Alfie sighs but he seems happy enough when he lies down, facing me with that infectious grin of his.

It takes us ten minutes at most before things get heated. It baffles me that we'd technically only had sex once, yet this feels so natural. His weight on my body, his lips on my skin, his erection grinding against mine. He'd better not stop now because 'I'm wounded' or he'll have more than my wounds to worry about.

I'm getting hot and apparently, so is Alfie. He takes off his shirt and quickly helps me with mine. We sleep shirtless so this is nothing we haven't seen before, but it's different like this, his skin more radiant, his muscles tenser, his body warmer.

Alfie quickly attacks my neck again. I bury my hands in his hair, pulling him closer, but he shakes them off and pins my wrists against the pillow. I recall the last time he's done that, before Alfie's stupidity so rudely interrupted us.

'That night in Belfast, before the phone call,' I remind him. 'You took control…'

'Mmmm… You liked that, didn't you?' Alfie croons as if my ragged breathing and aroused whimpers wouldn't give it away.

'I did,' I confess. Alfie takes a moment to sit back and look me over.

'Hmmm… This would've been a lot easier if I had my handcuffs with me,' he murmurs.

'You own handcuffs?' I ask. I don't know why that surprises me.

'I do. A nice black leather pair, right, real comfortable too,' Alfie describes them and runs his thumb over my wrist, where a handcuff would've gone. It sends shivers down my spine and for a second I regret not going back to Alfie's place instead.

'I can just hold my hands up here,' I offer and Alfie nods.

'You better,' he warns me, a slight rasp to his voice now. It immediately makes me want to disobey him.

'What if I don't?' I ask him, partly out of curiosity, partly to provoke him.

'You don't want to find out,' he answers, but he somehow fails to sound threatening. I decide to play along for now and keep my hands above my head.

Alfie carefully takes my pants off. They're old borrowed sweatpants, slightly too big for my frame, that Aberama procured for me and they slide off easily enough. Underwear follows and then Alfie's clothes. He goes to get some lube and condoms from his bag and settles back between my legs. There's an instinct in my arms as I want to touch him, run my hands over his exposed skin, but I catch myself and stay put, watching him looking me over. I can see he's enjoying it, seeing me so meek and pliant and if it were anyone else, I'd be embarrassed, but with him I just feel safe and happy.

Alfie’s lips meet mine and I realize we don’t kiss enough. The scratch of the beard and taste of his mouth still feel new to me. He doesn’t stay long, though. He begins traveling down my body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses on the way. He’s moving slowly, his hands brushing against my skin, the light caresses making me shiver. He gets down to my hips and takes a hold, spreading my cheeks before moving further to my thighs. He is pointedly ignoring my cock and I know exactly where this is going. Well, he’s going to have to try harder than that if he wants me to crack.

I hear the telltale sound of the lube bottle opening and seconds later, there’s a cold sensation at my arsehole. I spread my legs wider and push down against Alfie’s finger. It’s an absurd combination, the sting of the stretch accompanied by Alfie’s light teasing kisses on my inner thighs. Alfie starts fingering me, slowly and rhythmically.

‘If it hurts too much…’ Alfie starts. I sense this is not just about my wound. I nod. I trust him. I know how BDSM works and clearly, so does he. Alfie adds a second finger and picks up the pace. I close my eyes and focus on the feeling. The pain is giving way to pleasure now that Alfie’s angles his fingers to hit my prostate. I find myself pushing back against him. Normally, I would’ve restrained myself to not come off as too eager, but Alfie seems to like it when I’m like that.

‘Fuck, Tommy, you’re inpatient,’ Alfie comments but there’s no mockery behind it. At this point, he’s given up on fingering me and lets me fuck myself on his fingers while he uses his other hand to languidly stroke his cock. His eyes are boring into me, full of admiration and lust. Just seeing him look at me like that makes my cock twitch.

‘Alfie, I need you inside me,’ I urge him. There’s a moment of contemplation before Alfie gives in and pulls out his fingers. He puts on a condom and coats it with lube. Meanwhile, I reposition myself and spread my leg further. I’m moving slowly. I don’t want to agitate the wound, but at the moment, I can’t even feel the pain, even if there is some.

Alfie kneels between my legs, lifts me off the bed a bit and quickly pushes into me. I’m stretched enough so it doesn’t hurt. It takes Alfie a few thrusts to find the right angle and my moaning lets him know exactly when. He picks up the pace and the pleasure immediately overwhelms me. There’s a rising pressure in my groin and the need to touch myself becomes completely unignorable. It’s not that I can’t hold back, it’s just that holding back now takes conscious effort that I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep.

‘Oh, fuck,’ I moan as Alfie keeps thrusting into me. He’s panting heavily and I can feel drops of sweat hit my stomach, but his pace is relentless. I grip the pillow, partly to steady myself but mostly to keep me from fucking touching myself or Alfie. By the time Alfie’s pace starts to slow, the pressure in my cock verges on painful, but the waves of pleasure are still there, crashing over me with every thrust against my prostate.

‘Touch me, Alfie,’ I plead and it sounds so fucking desperate and pathetic. What’s worse is that Alfie completely ignores me. He keeps pounding into me and for a second I think I might come just from this, but it doesn’t happen. I close my eyes as shivers overtake my body.

‘Fuck, Alfie,’ I call out, loud enough that he definitely hears.

‘Beg for it,’ Alfie demands. There’s a thought in my mind that I shouldn’t stoop so low, shouldn’t beg for anything, but I quickly dismiss it. I fucking need him to touch me.

‘Please, Alfie, touch my cock, please,’ I whimper. There’s a moment of shame, shame that I caved, shame that even begging him makes me aroused. But it’s instantly overshadowed by the sharp pleasure when Alfie grabs my cock and starts stroking in rhythm with the fucking. It only takes a minute before the raising fire in my groin explodes in a mix of relief and pleasure. The moan almost turns into a scream and it takes a moment for me to catch my breath. I barely notice Alfie’s erratic thrusts as he finishes with a ‘Fuck, Tommy!’, pulls out and collapses next to me. I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm this intense. I’m gathering my words, still in the post-coital bliss, when I hear talking outside.

‘I think they’re done now,’ someone says and then there’s a knock. For fuck’s sake.

‘Tommy, may I come in?’ I hear Aberama call out.

‘Fuck off,’ Alfie shouts back before I can respond.

‘It’s about the request you made this morning,’ Aberama explains. What fucking request? Fuck, it doesn’t matter. Not right now.

‘We’ll find you at the pyre,’ I tell him. For once in my life, can we have sex without interruptions?

‘Okay,’ Aberama agrees and leaves. I don’t know why but there’s something about the whole situation that makes me giggle.

‘They heard us,’ I laugh. I miss the times when the biggest problem in the world was people hearing you fuck.

‘Of course they heard us. I’d be fucking surprised if they wouldn’t, right. You were practically screaming back there, love,’ Alfie comments and nuzzles into my side. I remember the feeling, the bliss of orgasm that just didn’t go away. Fuck, it was good.

‘I really need to try those handcuffs of yours,’ I comment. I can see it already – sprawled out on Alfie’s bed, writhing about and pulling on the restraints, completely at the mercy of Alfie and the wicked ways he makes me beg for it. Alfie hums against my side, similar images probably flooding his brain as well.

‘All in due time, Tommy, all in due time,’ Alfie promises. I kiss the top of his head and he looks up at me and joins our lips. It’s surprisingly soft and tender considering he’s just made me come all over my stomach not five minutes ago.

‘We should go talk to Aberama,’ I say once our lips part. I don’t want to leave the bed, but the threat of Luca is still looming in the background. I must not lose focus now. Alfie sighs but he lets me get up.

Ten minutes later we’re approaching the bonfire. Aberama’s sitting next to in, talking to some other people, but he waves us over and leads us a bit further off.

‘So, you two are engaging in… sexual activities?’ Aberama asks, a curious tone to his voice.

‘Alright, gypo, no need for fancy language. We’re fucking, yeah, is that a problem?’ Alfie asks, a bit too aggressively for my taste, but Aberama just smiles at him.

‘No, it’s not a problem, I was simply curious,’ Aberama answers. ‘So, about your request…’

‘What request?’ I ask. I still don’t know what this is all about.

‘You friend here requested that I send some of my men to keep a lookout on your aunt’s house, just in case Changretta’s men show up. In return, he promised I can ‘summon up Jews when need be’, whatever the fuck that means,’ Aberama explains. ‘I sent some of the Lee boys, including Johnny Dogs. They’re already camped out. Johnny will call you if anything happens.’

I nod. A sound plan. Polly can take care of herself, but even she can’t take on the whole of Italian mafia.

‘Good. Have you told Polly?’ I ask and Alfie and Aberama both shake their head.

‘No. If I know your aunt at all, she’d send my boys right back home if she found out. Too proud to accept help. Always was,’ Aberama says, seemingly lost in memories. ‘Speaking of, how is city life treating her?’

‘She’s doing well,’ I answer. ‘She’s gotten used to it, but she still misses the caravan and the freedom of getting lost in the woods.’

‘Well, tell her that she’s welcome to join me anytime, even if just for a week or two,’ Aberama says with a smile. I notice he used ‘me’ instead of ‘us’. I know that there was something between him and Polly when they were younger, but Polly always refused to talk about it, saying she’ll just run off into the forest to find him if she starts thinking about it.

‘Will do. She might just take you on that offer,’ I agree and Aberama nods.

‘There’s another favour I want to ask you,’ I change the topic. Aberama looks at me curiously.

‘Tommy, we’ve done so much for you, you know that. But you have to understand, these favours of yours are costing us a lot,’ he starts. It’s not unexpected. The clan needs to look out for itself first.

‘Of course. The costs will be covered and your gracious help financially compensated,’ I give in. There’s no dealing with Aberama Gold.

‘Continue, please,’ Aberama prompts.

‘I have a friend. Inspector Moss. He’s with the police, but he’s on our side. Recently, he’s… gone AWOL. I need you to find him, let me know what’s going on,’ I elaborate.

‘We’ll look into it,’ Aberama confirms and then cocks his head.

‘If you don’t mind me asking, what is your plan now that your wound is better?’ he asks then and I sigh. That’s a good question.

‘We have all the evidence we could gather. Two testimonies and some reports to back them up,’ I sum up the situation. ‘Tomorrow, we go to court.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you have probably noticed, I have no idea how police investigation or court justice works so for these next few chapters, just pretend it makes sense.


	13. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Alfie await the day of trial by taking care of some outstanding business and calming each other down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: some semi-explicit sexual content.

All the law-speak is making my head hurt. I need a break. And a smoke. I excuse myself and go outside. Alfie follows me ‘for safety’.

‘Yitzak’s a great lawyer, right, got me off the hook once or twice, but he’s got integrity. It’s like squeezing blood from a fucking stone, yeah, finding a lawyer with some fucking integrity,’ Alfie muses. I light up a cigarette and inhale. I’ve been cutting back on these since this whole thing started but it’s going to take much longer if I want to quit.

‘I’m sure he’s great,’ I agree and puff out the smoke. Alfie’s called in a favour with one of his cousins or such who’s apparently a lawyer. We’ve been going through the evidence all morning, writing statements and arranging meetings. I wrote an email to Grace, informing her of the situation and asking for a testimony, but hadn’t heard back yet. It doesn’t matter. We’re focusing on Campbell for now. Yitzak is planning to take everything to court in the afternoon.

‘So what are you pissy about then, eh?’ Alfie asks. I roll my eyes.

‘I’m not fucking pissy, Alfie,’ I deny and puff some smoke in his direction. He doesn’t look impressed.

‘It’s just the pressure of it all, alright? What if the testimonies aren’t enough? What if the mafia also owns the judges? What if someone brings up the drugs or the fucking alcohol, eh?’ I almost shout. These fears that I’ve been keeping inside of me for a while now. I tried to hide them, it’s not good for others to see your fears because then they know your weaknesses. But when I tell him, all I can feel is relief.

‘I know, Tommy. I can’t guarantee that it’ll go well and if it doesn’t we’re both fucked, but we need to fucking do this,’ Alfie comforts me. His words don’t help, but his voice is quiet and soothing. I do appreciate his honesty, though.

‘I need to call Johnny Dogs,’ I sigh. I checked with him a few hours ago and he reported no suspicious activity. He’s promised to call if anything happens, but it never hurts to have control over the situation.

The phone rings for a bit and there’s a churn in my stomach, but then I hear the click of someone answering the phone.

‘Hello, Tommy,’ I hear Polly’s voice.

‘She fucking found me, Tommy!’ I can hear Johnny’s shouting in the background. It makes me chuckle. Jonny can be a scary fucking man, but he can’t compare with Polly.

‘Oh, come on, Johnny, I knew you were here from the moment you pulled up. I just invited you in for lunch. You can’t play lookout with an empty stomach,’ Polly corrects him, but her sarcasm is palpable.

‘Look, Polly, it’s just for safety, alright? Just let him stay there. He can be in the house if you want to, but let him do his job,’ I try to convince Polly, but she just scoffs.

‘His job, Tommy? Like you’re doing your job now? Running around, playing coppers, dismantling the mafia… Is that your job? You’re a college student, for God’s sake. And so is Johnny. His job is not looking out the window so someone doesn’t come harass an old lady,’ Polly rants. I understand where she’s coming from, but I haven’t felt like a college student in a while. Hopefully, things will go back to normal soon enough. In the meantime, I need Polly to sit tight and not make things worse.

‘Look, it’s just for a few days. It was Alfie’s idea, but Aberama and I both agreed to it,’ I name-drop the gypsy, hoping that’ll calm her. It seems to work.

‘Aberama, huh?’ Polly asks, some of her anger replaced by intrigue.

‘He misses you. You should pay him a visit once this is over,’ I suggest. There’s silence on the other end, probably memories coming back to her.

‘I should,’ Polly agrees after a while.

‘Did Alfie’s… Did Mariana arrive yet?’ I ask then, hoping Polly doesn’t bring up Johnny Dogs again.

‘Not yet,’ Polly answers. ‘She called to say she’ll be late.’

‘Well, call me when she does,’ I order and Polly agrees.

There’s a moment of silence after I hang up before I feel Alfie’s hand on my back. It’s a simple gesture of reassurance, but I’ve gone through so many tough moments in my life without it, that it feels oddly out of place, like it should be followed by a stab in the back. But it doesn’t come. Instead, Alfie leans closer and kisses the side of my neck, not in the usual ‘I’ll mark you up’ way. Just a quick little peck, the brush of his beard tickling my skin. I want to turn around and kiss him properly, let him know how thankful I am for his support, but I see Yitzak coming out of his office building and toward us. Alfie spots him too and lets go of me.

‘Hey, if you don’t mind, I’ve written the first draft of the litigation notice, we should review it together,’ Yitzak says and motions back toward the office. If he saw what happened between Alfie and me, he doesn’t comment. I sigh and follow Alfie and the lawyer back into the building. It’s going to be a long day.

\---

We return to the school. It feels distant somehow, like it’s not the part of my life anymore. Like it’s just some moderately safe place where we can hide out for a while as we wait. We haven’t gotten the trial date yet but according to Yitzak, the letter should be coming sometime this week.

‘Rhys knocked up Katrine but she’s been together with Brad for three years so there’s been some drama. She’s keeping the baby, apparently,’ John recounts the latest gossip and sips on his whiskey.

‘If that’s what she wants,’ I comment and take a drag of my cigarette. I’ve missed this, the late night talks with John. We don’t hang out enough. ‘Any other problems?’

‘Not really,’ John answers, thinks for a moment and then adds: ‘I’ve got myself a girlfriend.’

Well, that is news. John with a girl under his arm.

‘Lizzie?’ I ask, remembering his previous interest in her. He shakes his head.

‘Esme,’ he answers. ‘She’s not in any sororities so you might not know her.’

‘Oh, I know her,’ I answer. She might not be in a sorority but never stopped her from crashing our parties. ‘Wild, that one.’

‘Yeah,’ John agrees with a smile. Well, isn’t that something. He’s smitten.

‘Well, good for you. Try not to fuck it up, eh?’ I tell him. He just laughs and takes another sip.

‘What about you? You’re with that Alfie guy now?’ John asks curiously. He’s buzzed enough to bring this up, I guess.

‘Yeah, I guess you could say that,’ I confirm and John nods thoughtfully.

‘He seems alright,’ John comments. He’s never been very fond of the fact that his brother is bi, like it might somehow rub off on him, so I did not really expect him to support this.

‘He is,’ I agree. ‘He’s good for me.’

As much as the past few weeks have been a shitstorm, Alfie has made them remarkably easier to bear.

‘Well, that’s nice,’ John says and raises his glass. ‘To love.’

‘To love,’ I toast and take my glass from the windowsill. It’s a strong word, love. One that I haven’t really directed toward Alfie, although it’s been on the tip of my tongue for days. It seems inappropriate to talk about love when our futures are at stake, but maybe that’s exactly the time.

‘Where is he anyway?’ John asks.

‘Taking care of the frat business, I reckon. There’s a lot we’ve missed in these last few days,’ I answer.

‘Not really,’ John laughs.

‘Yeah, well, tell that to the Alphas. There’s always drama in that house,’ I comment and shake my head. John giggles and downs the rest of his whiskey.

‘How’s Arthur?’ I ask. I haven’t spoken to him since the incident. Maybe I should’ve called him.

‘He’s dealing. He’s sorry, for what it’s worth,’ John answers. ‘He’s just happy police hasn’t come for him yet. Do you think they will?’

‘Possibly,’ I answer. ‘If the Changrettas press charges. They don’t have witnesses, but they do have a beaten up kid and we have a brother with the motive.’

John sighs but doesn’t comment any further. My phone buzzes and I take a look. It’s a message from Alfie.

‘I’m done. Want to take Cyril for a walk?’

I remember when he wouldn’t let me stand in front of the fucking window. That was just two weeks ago. We were so scared. We might be in more danger now than we were then but something’s changed. We’ve grown used to it, or maybe we just rely on each other more. I text him back, confirming that I’m coming.

\---

‘You’re stressing too much,’ Alfie says and rubs my back. I huff. The trial is tomorrow and everything is eerily quiet. Polly’s accepted Johnny Dog’s presence. Mariana’s arrived and settled with her. I can only imagine the kind of stories about us they’re exchanging.

Aberama’s informed me that Moss has been suspended from the force for suspected covering of criminal activity. He denied any involvement but is being heavily monitored, all his calls and conversations recorded. Aberama won’t tell me how he found this information and I don’t intend to ask.

Following the litigation, Campbell has been suspended as well and is now being detained until the trial. At least he should be. Yitzak tells me he’s in contact with Campbell’s layer and things are going as they should be. I trust Yitzak. Not because he’s particularly trustworthy but because I have no choice.

As far as I know, Angel’s still in the hospital and Luca’s nowhere to be seen. I keep looking around corners, expecting to find him lurking, expecting a gunshot to strike me or Alfie in the chest. We mostly keep to Alfie’s room, only going outside when there’s people around, but the silence is making me nervous. Alfie says I’m getting paranoid. He might be right. It’s driving me crazy.

‘Someone has to,’ I answer. Alfie’s been strangely calm but I know he’s worried too.

‘You need to relax, yeah. What do you say to a nice, sensual massage?’ Alfie suggests. I know full well this will not end with just a massage but it sounds so tempting. I put down Yitzak’s list of guidelines for court etiquette and lean back in the chair. Alfie starts nibbling at my neck and for just a moment, I let myself go, relishing in his closeness. I think of the time after all this. When I’ll be able to relax completely, focus solely on _us_.

‘Let me take control, Tommy. Let me take you elsewhere,’ Alfie groans into my ear. Fuck, do I want to. I have discovered so much more about my body and his in these last few days in his dorm. A part of me feels bad for wasting our time when we could’ve been preparing for court. Or focusing on the frat houses. Or doing actual schoolwork for a change. Or settling paperwork for missing uni. But at the end of the day, laying back and letting Alfie fuck me into oblivion feels so good. It’s one of the only things that relaxes me.

Not now, though. In less then 24 hours, we’ll be in court, prosecuting a police officer for coercing at least two women into abortion. It’s hardly a normal day. I’d like to be as prepared as I can. And so should Alfie.

‘Tell you what, we go over the case again and then I’ll hold you onto that massage,’ I propose. Alfie smiles that wicked smirk of his and for a moment, I regret my suggestion. He sits across my lap and holds my stare. He reaches down to kiss me. A deep, probing kiss that promises much more later.

‘Right, the case,’ Alfie then shifts focus but he makes no attempt to move off my lap. I start explaining the procedure as far as I understand it based on my research and Yitzak’s notes. We manage about half an hour before Alfie carries me to bed. He quickly gets me out of my shirt and manhandles me onto the bed, a bit more forcibly than he has to.

‘Fuck, you’re stiff,’ Alfie comments as he starts massaging me. I try to push my worries about tomorrow away and melt into his touch.

He’s not being gentle. I can feel his fingers press into my skin, the pressure releasing the tension of my body. It feels incredible. It only lasts two minutes, however, before Alfie grunts, stands up and leaves the room to go to the bathroom. I crane my neck to look after him. He returns seconds after with a bottle of something, tosses it on the bed and discards his shirt before climbing on the bed and settling himself neatly just above my ass.

‘What have you got?’ I ask him when he doesn’t return to massaging and is instead inspecting the bottle thoughtfully.

‘Fuck do I know. Some sort of a body oil, right, got it from Ollie for my birthday a few years back. Never used it, really,’ Alfie explains and pops it open. In hindsight, we probably should’ve put a towel on the bed but Alfie’s already popped the bottle and I feel the thick liquid hit my back.

Alfie starts massaging again. It’s a lot smoother now that he’s using the oil. It smells pleasantly of sandalwood. I let myself go, sighing and moaning when Alfie hits a particularly stubborn knot.

‘You keep making those noises, yeah, I won’t be massaging you for long,’ Alfie warns me and rolls his hips against my ass. I hum approvingly and Alfie chuckles above me. His massaging calms down until he’s just rubbing my back. He then moves off of me and suddenly turns me around. Although the massage got me slightly sleepy, I am fully awake now. My back slides across the sheets but I decide to worry about the stains later. Right now, Alfie’s watching me with dark eyes that demand my full attention.

He quickly gets us both out of our clothes and grabs lube, condoms and handcuffs from the nightstand. We don’t even bother putting them back in the drawer. Alfie lays over me and pushes a lubed-up finger into me. With sex becoming a constant I don’t really need stretching but it’s become a somewhat typical foreplay for us. I push against his hand and he soon adds a second finger, taking his time to find my prostate.

‘How do you want to do this?’ Alfie asks when he pauses to put on the condom. We’ve been discovering facets of each other’s degeneracy in these past few days. He loves making me beg, I love being tied up. But there’s so much more we have to try.

‘Handcuffs,’ I decide. They’ve become an integral part of our sex life lately. But that’s not enough tonight. I can still sense the worry in the back of my mind. I want it to stop. For just a few minutes, I want to forget that tomorrow…

‘Blindfold, from behind,’ I add. Alfie stops for a second, looks at me and smirks.

‘I swear, Tommy, you’re going to be the fucking death of me,’ he mutters and goes to fetch the blindfold. We’ve used it once but not in the combination with the handcuffs. The feeling of excitement and nervousness fills my stomach but it’s the good kind. The kind that worries about the next few minutes and forgets all else.

I end up bracing the headboard as Alfie rams into me from behind, my full focus on the sensation of his cock hitting my prostate and his hands gripping my hips as the darkness engulfs me. He’s grunting and cursing when he loses the hold of my hips, my skin slippery from sweat and oil. He then pushes himself closer to reach around and starts wanking me off. I don’t last long, losing myself in the intensity of the pleasure. I’m still coming down from the brink when Alfie pulls out and turns me over roughly, the handcuffs twisting around my wrists, my head almost banging against the headboard. I barely get a chance to catch my breath when I hear Alfie moan and his come hits my stomach.

‘Fucking hell, Tommy,’ Alfie curses. ‘I’m going to take the blindfold off now.’

I nod, still too far gone to speak, and then the blindfold’s off. I blink a few times to adjust to the dim light of the room. Meanwhile, Alfie uncuffs me and I rub my wrists subconsciously.

‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’ Alfie asks and I shake my head. I clear my throat before I speak.

‘No, I’m good,’ I answer but it doesn’t take long for anxiety and worry to settle in again. Alfie seems to notice. He disappears for a second and comes back with a damp washcloth to clean us both up. The sheets are beyond fucked but he doesn’t order me out of bed and I don’t really feel like moving. Instead, Alfie puts on his underwear, settles behind me and hoists me up so I can lean against his chest. I can hear the thudding beat of his heart getting ever so slower as his body calms down. I close my eyes and focus on the sound of his heart and the feeling of his hands in my hair. I can feel the sleepiness creep into my brain. That’s good. But there’s something I need to say before I drift off.

‘Alfie, whatever happens tomorrow… I just want to say… I love you,’ I mumble. It’s not like he doesn’t know but somehow, it feels important to tell him. His hand in my hair stops for a moment and I open my eyes to look at him. He smiles at me and kisses the top of my head.

‘Nothing’s gonna happen, treacle. But I love you too and I’ll love you once all of this is over,’ Alfie says and I can feel tears gathering in my eyes. I smile back at him. I still have a bad feeling about tomorrow but right now, here, with him… Here, I’m safe.

I don’t even feel the tear running down my cheek until Alfie wipes it off. I fall asleep to his soothing humming and gentle caresses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will probably be posting the next chapter today in the evening bc I have eye surgery tomorrow morning. There's also a possibility for a day or two of hiatus, depending on the state of my eye.


	14. Casualties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Alfie stumble upon the last hurdle before the trial but this one might come with a cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: character death.

The text message comes two hours before the trial.

‘We have your drugs. Dosthill Quarry at three. Come alone.’

Fuck! Fucking shit! That’s during the trial. Of course it is.

Alfie notices something’s wrong before I get a chance to tell him.

‘What’s going on?’ Alfie asks me and gives a small reassuring kiss to the back of my neck. I show him the text. It’s from an unknown number. I can see Alfie’s brow furrow.

‘What the fuck?’ he murmurs and hands the phone back to me. ‘I swear I didn’t tell anyone, right, where the drugs are.’

‘I believe you. I didn’t think you did,’ I answer. The thought has crossed my mind, but I dismissed it quickly. They wouldn’t have waited until now if they knew all along. ‘Maybe they’re bluffing.’

‘They’re not,’ Alfie shakes his head. ‘I dumped the stash at Dosthill Quarry.’

‘Fuck,’ I curse. I go through my options. Calling the police is out of the question. There’re probably my prints on the bags. I could ignore it, go to the trial. If they’re at the quarry, what can they really do at the court room? But I can’t deny: I am scared. All I wanted was justice for Grace and I got sucked into this world of mafia and police corruption. In that moment, I want to just give up. Say fuck it and run away with Alfie and hide somewhere they can’t find us…

‘So, the only logical thing to do, right, is for both of us to go to the quarry,’ Alfie concludes. He’s looking at me with that take-no-bullshit stare, but I know he’s just saying that because he doesn’t want me to go alone. I don’t want to go alone either, but…

‘No, we can’t let the trial go. It’s the only thing we have. You go to the trial and I’ll go meet them,’ I propose but he shakes his head.

‘You won’t be dealing with them alone, yeah?’ Alfie protests. ‘I can’t let you do that.’

‘If you come with me, they’ll now,’ I object. ‘I don’t know what they want, but I’ll go to the quarry and talk it out. Meanwhile, you go to the trial and see it through.’

Alfie closes his eyes and turns away from me.

‘Alright, Tommy, if you think that’s best,’ he gives in and walks to his closet. He punches in the code and rummages around for a bit. ‘But I have a bad feeling about this.’

He turns around and hands me a handgun, handle first. It’s a small, concealable weapon. Alfie’s never mentioned he owns a gun. I take it in and check. It’s not loaded. Alfie hands me the ammo clip and I push it in.

‘You know how to shoot?’ Alfie asks me and I nod. Arthur’s got into hunting about a year ago. Aberama had a range of not exactly legal firearms. Mostly hunting guns, some handguns, even a machine gun. Arthur brought me there to teach me how to shoot. For protection, he said. Because I never know when a junkie will pull a gun on me. I never got used to carrying, though. Seemed like calling for trouble. Well, it might as well save my life today. I’m hoping I won’t have to use it, but I can’t deny that having a fallback makes me feel a bit safer. The thought of Aberama’s guns lingers in my head.

‘Well, that’s good. I wouldn’t shed a tear if that Changretta bastard lay dead in a ditch, right,’ Alfie hisses and shakes his head. He huffs and shakes his head.

‘My boyfriend, singlehandedly destroying the British mafia,’ he says and buries his head in his hands for a few seconds. ‘I should go with you.’

‘Hey, now,’ I call out to him. ‘You’ll be off fighting corruption with the power of law.’

‘Which, if you ask me, is a lot less cool than a good old-fashioned shootout, yeah?’ Alfie says and looks at me. ‘Take care, Tommy, alright?’

I nod and smile at Alfie and he smiles back. It’s a sad, nervous smile. A vulnerable smile. I think about our relationship just a few weeks ago. You could call it a friendship if you squinted, but I could never have imagined seeing Alfie smile like this. He’s telling me what I already know. Whatever happens in these next few hours, we found something in each other.

I slowly step up to him and kiss him. It starts out slow but gets desperate, the anxiety and worry emanating from the both of us. We’re putting all our wishes and fantasies in this one kiss. In four hours time, it will all be over. We’ll be back here, court case settled, drugs destroyed or secured, mafia out of our lives… Oh, who am I kidding? I’ve never really been an optimist.

\---

The drive to the quarry is surprisingly calming. The road winds through the little scenic villages and there’s no oncoming traffic. Under a different circumstance, I might’ve enjoyed the scenery. I drive past the quarry lake, Luca and his goons still nowhere to be seen. But I asked Alfie where exactly he’s buried the drugs and I’m guessing they’re there. So I drive further up the hill, to the quarry proper and I see them. Luca Changretta, sucking on his vape, as per usual, surrounded by five blokes, no doubt armed, and possibly more hidden somewhere.

‘Hello, Thomas,’ he says when I get out of my car and approach him. He is clouded in a thin cherry scented mist. It makes me want to punch him.

‘Hello, Changretta,’ I greet him, giving him as blank a stare as I can muster. I am filled with rage and anxiety but I’m not showing it. ‘What do you want?’

‘I’m glad you ask,’ Luca muses. ‘You have become quite a nuisance lately. I fully believe, that you had not meant to do so, but you meddle with things outside of your purview.’

‘Yeah?’ I ask tauntingly. ‘You mean the mafia. Corrupt government officials? Police? What do you do, exactly? Smuggle? Assassinate? Force women into abortion?’

Luca chuckles. He fucking chuckles.

‘You very much misunderstand what mafia means,’ he says.

‘And what _does_ it mean?’ I ask. Not out of curiosity, I just need him to keep talking.

‘Loyalty. Family,’ Luca answers, slowly walking closer to me. ‘Something you’re familiar with, I presume.’

Oh, he will not bring my family into this.

‘They’re admirable values, Changretta,’ I agree. ‘I can’t seem to place, though… Where does the crime come in?’

‘We’re similar, Tommy, you and I,’ Luca continues and points at me. I huff but he just turns around and continues. ‘Mafia runs on much of the same principles your little pikey gang does. Crime is for protection. And finance. It’s a necessary evil we do to take care of our own. We’re just… more organized.’

‘That you are. You found my drugs,’ I state. I haven’t seen the bag so far, but I can see where the ground’s been dug up.

‘Hmmm,’ Luca murmurs affirmatively and takes a deep breath through his vape, blowing the vapour toward me. ‘It wasn’t hard, really. Alfie. He’s all business… Although, I hear he’s partaking in pleasure lately too. I never really trusted him so I had my men follow him.’

Luca looks to one of his men, who produces a beaten dirty plastic bag from behind one of the rocks. Good. It’s out in the open, in nobody’s hands. I nod and readjust my coat so that I can feel my phone better.

‘So you knew the whole time,’ I conclude. ‘And you only acted now.’

‘See, Tommy, there’s an Italian saying: wait time and place to take revenge, for it is never well done in a hurry,’ Luca explains, waving his hands dramatically.

‘So this is revenge? Revenge for what, exactly?’ I ask angrily. He has no reason for revenge. Angel deserves everything he’s got. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, this all started when your brother stabbed my girlfriend.’

‘Oh, Tommy Shelby, that is not what this is about, is it?’ Luca shakes his head. ‘My brother lies beaten in the hospital. We’re even. Except you decided to come after me.’

‘I decided to come after Inspector Campbell,’ I correct him.

‘Who is under our protection,’ Luca adds. ‘He is no saint, we can agree on that, but I have some family in Belfast and he is the only reason they are still alive and free. He’s counting on me to do the same.’

‘Well, I’m sorry to interfere,’ I retort mockingly. I can feel my phone buzz three times. Arthur and the boys are here. Good.

‘No need for apologies, Shelby,’ Luca says with a knowing grin. ‘You caused but a minor inconvenience.’

‘Oh, it’s not me that’s interfering,’ I answer. ‘I’m here, resolving outstanding business. Meanwhile, Alfie’s on his way to the trial.’

‘Not anymore, I’m afraid,’ Changretta’s grin broadens and he huffs another cloud of cherry vapour toward me. ‘He’s on his way to the hospital now.’

It takes a moment for me to process his words, but he doesn’t even wait for me to ask for details. He pulls out his phone and shows me a picture. Even from where I’m standing, I recognize a car crash. Alfie’s car, completely smashed up. There’s a slimmer of hope that it might just be a similar car, but then he swipes right.

Alfie lies there, his face bloody, eyes closed, chest covered by a white sheet as he’s being loaded on a stretcher. My body clenches, unable to move, as my mind struggles to come to terms with the information, the sight boring itself into my brain. I close my eyes, trying to make it go away, but it’s still there, right in front of me. His bloody face. His unmoving body.

Rage and fear fill my mind.

I reach into my coat pocket and pull out the gun. There’s not a second thought in my mind, I just have to wipe that fucking grin of his off of Luca’s face, make him bleed the way he made Alfie.

The gunshot echoes through the quarry, but I don’t even know if I hit my mark because I don’t plan to stick around for bullets to find me.

‘Luca! Luca!’ I hear someone yell behind me, followed by ‘Merda! Parla con me, Luca!’, which I take as a good sign. I dive behind one of the rocks. The gunshots of the Italians shooting behind me settle down, but I can hear one run toward my hiding place. I look around for an escape route. I could skid down the ravine, but before I will my muscles to move, the Italian drops dead in his tracks, the sound of machine gun fire prompting more angry Italian screaming. Arthur’s here and he’s brought the big guns.

I take the opportunity to crawl to the edge of the gully and slowly slide down. I get caught on a thorny bush, but a few scratches are the least of my worries. I can hear someone shout something above me, before they follow me down. Fuck. I try to hurry up, but the bank is too steep and I tumble to the ground. I can hear my pursuer stop, no doubt trying to take aim before I get up, but I roll under a bush before taking off again, running between the sparse trees. I can hear a bullet hit one of the trunks I’m running past, but I don’t stop.

I zig-zag between the trees, none of them providing enough cover for me to stop. He hits me once, in the shoulder, but the pain is kept at bay by the adrenalin coursing through my veins. But then the trees stop suddenly and I come face to face with a cliff above the quarry lake. The decision is made the moment I hear another gunshot behind me.

Cold water traps my body and I feel as if I’m never going to get to the surface again, but then my instincts kick in and I’m up, gasping for air. I half expect my pursuer to jump after me, but nothing happens. The eerie calmness of the water is disturbed only by the sounds of gunfire, still emanating from the quarry. God fucking damn it, Arthur! Just fall back!

I swim up to the pier and don off my soaked coat. I throw the gun into the lake and check my phone. It’s dead. Fuck. I’m sure someone has noticed the gunfire and called the police. Hopefully, also an ambulance.

I know full well that the shootout will be over by the time I get back up to the quarry. What I need to do is get to the hospital. To find Alfie and to get my wound treated. I run down the road toward a church, but the pain in my shoulder is too blinding. I stumble on the ground when I see the door open and a couple run out.

‘Sir, are you hurt?’ the man asks me. Of course I’m fucking hurt. But I say nothing.

‘Lindsey, call 999,’ the man shouts and my brain finally decides I’m safe enough. I pass out.

\---

‘Welcome back, mister Shelby,’ the nurse smiles at me when I come to. My left arm is in a brace, tucked against my chest, but it doesn’t hurt. ‘The gunshot fractured your humerus. We had to operate. But your vitals are steady and you are receiving oxycodone to relieve your pain. Please, be careful with the tubes and don’t move your arms.’

I nod and close my eyes. I’m okay. I’ve been taken care of. But then the events from the previous night flood back to me. Fuck! I open my eyes again and look at the nurse.

‘Excuse me, miss, I need to find some people. They should be at the hospital,’ I tell her, my voice hoarse but filled with urgency. She smiles at me again, that mocking smile of pity.

‘You mean from the gunfight, sir?’ she asks and I nod.

‘Oh, I best let the police talk to you first, mister Shelby. They’ll explain the situation,’ the nurse nods to herself and turns to leave. Shit.

‘Please, miss, just tell me what happened,’ I plead. The panic in my voice is clear now. Why is she being so cryptic? Did someone die? Did Arthur…

‘I don’t really know, sir, I’m sorry. But I can send in the police now and they’ll clear things up,’ she excuses herself and leaves the room. Fucking shit! Can someone just tell me if my brother and my boyfriend are alive?

Three police officers enter my room. I notice I’m the only patient in here.

‘Good morning, mister Shelby,’ one of them greets me. I nod in response. I don’t recognize any of them.

‘As you know, there has been a gunfight at Dosthill quarry yesterday that you yourself have been wounded in. We need you to recount the events to the best of your memory,’ another officer explains. I don’t have time for this.

‘I was there with my brother. I need to know what happened to him,’ I state. I’m not budging. I won’t tell them shit until I know.

‘Sir, we’re afraid whatever happened yesterday was a personal affair. We’re afraid knowing the outcome might influence your narration,’ the officer answers coldly. What the fuck? Fuck that!

‘I deserve to know!’ I shout. ‘It’s my family we’re talking about! You can’t keep that from me!’

‘Sir, please calm down,’ the officer says and steps closer to me, a slight threat to his posture. I stiffen up and keep my gaze locked on his. I know I’m in no position to tempt the law but this is really getting on my nerves. My brother, not to mention my boyfriend, are lying somewhere in the hospital, hopefully not the morgue, and these fucking pigs won’t even tell me where they are.

‘I won’t fucking calm down!’ I insist. ‘Just fucking tell me!’

The officers look at each other and the one that greeted me sighs.

‘Fine. There were two lethal casualties,’ the officer says. My heart stops for a second when I realize that in the next few seconds, my life might just fall apart. The copper consults his clipboard and looks back at me.

‘By the names of Luca Changretta and John Shelby.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> F to John :(  
> Not the best place for a hiatus, I know. Hopefully, I'll be able to post continuously but if not, I'm sorry.


	15. Reckless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy tries to deal with his brother's death.

Arthur looks completely wrecked when he enters the room. But that doesn’t lessen my rage one bit.  
‘Why did you let him join you?’ I yell. Arthur avoids my gaze and keeps looking somewhere at the ground.  
‘Look at me, damn it! What the fuck has gone through your mind that you took John with you? To a shootout!’  
Arthur still doesn’t look at me. His shoulders are hunched and he’s on the verge of tears, but that means nothing. He needs to learn that his stupidity has consequences.  
‘I don’t know, Tommy,’ Arthur answers quietly. ‘He wanted to come. I… I didn’t tell him about it. It must’ve been one of the Lee boys.’  
‘And you should’ve been the one to tell him no!’ I counter. Always blaming someone else.  
‘I tried to, Tommy, I did,’ Arthur claims and I can see the first tears streaming down his face. ‘I’m so sorry. He’s… He’s gone, Tommy.’  
‘I KNOW HE’S FUCKING GONE!’ I shout, the calm exterior I tried to put up crumpling completely. Arthur flinches at my outburst and I immediately feel a pang of guilt. He must feel like shit already without me yelling at him. But then I think of John and my mind fills with rage again. How could he be dead? He wasn’t a part of this! He shouldn’t have died for this!  
‘I’m sorry, Tommy,’ Arthur repeats through gritted teeth. ‘But we were all there to help you! This is your mess, this whole Changretta bullshit! You fucking brought this on us!’  
His words sting more than I thought they would. It’s not that I don’t know it but hearing it from Arthur makes it so much worse. Not only have I killed my brother. He’s died, knowing I killed him. He’s died because I was too proud to do that.  
Arthur stays where he is, but he’s trembling. I say nothing. We’ve both said what we wanted to say. And we’re both right, but that hardly brings John back. It just makes us hate each other more, so we don’t have to hate ourselves.  
‘Right then,’ Arthur mumbles and turns to leave. The idea crosses my mind, that I should apologize, but I don’t. I let him leave and call for a nurse. They’ve been decreasing my oxycodone dosage recently, but they can’t deny me if I claim I’m in pain.  
\---  
The next few days go by in a blur of restless sleep and hazy wakefulness.  
The nurse informs me that Alfie is okay. He is in another hospital and can’t see me, but he’s had minor head trauma and a few broken ribs. They had to intervene surgically, make sure his ribs won’t puncture his lungs, but he’s recovered well. No long-term effects, they said. As soon as the nurse leaves, I search through my belongings, only to remember my mobile phone is dead. I plan to ask the nurse for a phone call when I see her again, but then I decide against it. I can’t tell him over the phone. I can’t tell him I killed my brother. I can’t tell him I ruin everything that ever dares come close to me. I can’t tell him, that he should turn around and run while he still can.  
Yitzak comes over to inform me that trial still took place with him representing the prosecutor. The jury found the evidence insufficient. The messages could not be linked back to Campbell and he claimed that we had personal agenda to prosecute him, namely the drug raid he issued against me. That one of the witnesses was related to one of the prosecutors did not help the cause. Yitzak suggests that we rely on the court of public opinion, bring the testimonies to social media, involve the press, make a fuss and then push the case to Court of Appeal. I nod along. I couldn’t care less about Campbell right now.  
The policemen come back. They ask more questions and I answer. Truthfully, for the most part, but I don’t elaborate. They don’t seem interested in elaboration. They don’t mention any investigation into John’s death, but tell me that John is being posthumously charged for murder of Luca Changretta, since Luca died from shotgun wounds from a shotgun that was mysteriously found on John’s body. I want to tell them to fuck off and stop accusing my dead brother, but whatever rationality I have left, recognizes this as a good thing. It’s a free pass. The police don’t want to get involved with the mafia and I don’t blame them. I just hope Arthur doesn’t fuck things up. He’s way more than capable of turning himself in. For honour. As if that’s supposed to mean something.  
Polly comes by. She cries by my bed, but she doesn’t mention John or the shootout. She tells me Mariana is staying in a hotel, next to the hospital Alfie’s in. Johnny Dogs made it out with a few scrapes and bruises and she’s taking him and two of the Lee boys back to the caravan today. She’s taking Finn with her and staying there for a few days. She can’t bare being home alone. She brings me a new phone. Apparently, she’s been calling like crazy until Arthur told her what happened with my phone. I don’t apologize. Nothing I say means anything anymore.  
Alfie comes to me. He doesn’t, but in my dreams, he does. Whenever the drugs bring me under, he’s there. Warm and nice and happy. He’s happy. I’m not sure I can be. And then he gets angry. He doesn’t hit me or say anything, but the way he looks at me hurts enough to wake me from sleep.  
With every dream, he’s further away, until he stops coming.  
\---  
John’s room is right there, the way he left it, clothes thrown askew, laptop plugged in. Like he might be coming back any second.  
‘Where do you want me to carry the books?’ Ada asks.  
‘The car,’ Polly answers, folding John’s clothes on a pile. I shake my head. Ada shouldn’t be going through her dead brother’s stuff. I told Polly not to bring her along, but it seems nobody fucking listens to me lately.  
Ada leaves with a box of books and Polly turns to me.  
‘Alfie called again,’ she states. I’ve been let out of the hospital yesterday, but Alfie’s still recovering at Birmingham City Hospital. Polly went to visit and told him what happened. Apparently, Alfie’s been calling my old phone constantly, worrying when he couldn’t reach me. Now, I have a new phone, but I still don’t answer. So he started calling Polly.  
‘Hmmm… What did he say?’ I ask and puff the smoke out the window. Polly finishes with the clothes and looks at me disapprovingly.  
‘He said to tell you he misses you. You need to talk to him. Call. Or visit if you don’t want to call. But you’re hurting him. And God knows you don’t deserve him,’ Polly scolds me. She’s right. I don’t fucking deserve him. That’s why I’m not calling. Or visiting. That’s why I’m not looking forward to tomorrow, when he gets back. His angry glare is still etched into my brain.  
Yet, I cannot bring myself to sleep in my bed. When I got back from the hospital, I went straight to our room. His room, technically, but it feels more like home than my dorm ever has. Some Alphas saw me wandering the halls but didn’t ask questions. I slept for the first time since they took me off oxycodone. Alfie was there again and this time he didn’t get angry. I set on the edge of the bed for minutes, debating whether or not to call him, but ultimately decided against it. Because now, at least, he’s not angry with me and I don’t want that to change.  
‘Just call him, Tommy,’ Polly prompts again when I don’t answer and starts packing the rest of John’s things. I finish the cigarette and leave without saying goodbye.  
That evening it’s harder to fall asleep. Maybe because of what Polly said. I imagine how I’d feel if the situation was reversed. Not being able to reach him. Being rejected in such an obvious way. I’d start to hate his guts. I know deep down that’s why I’m doing this. So he’d hate me. So he’d push me away. Because I deserve that.  
I toss and turn for a while, but then I give up. I get up, open the window to crisp night air and light a cigarette. It somewhat calms me down, just because I have something to do with my hands. But I’d need a bigger hit if I wanted to fall asleep. It wouldn’t be the first time.  
The worst part about being a drug dealer is that you have a phonebook full of contacts. I could call at least three different numbers and procure enough heroin to knock out a horse in a matter of half an hour. I scroll through the phonebook. Angie. Leo. Strider.  
It’s just a phone call away.  
Then my phone rings. It startles me.  
Alfie. My finger ghosts over the screen.  
He’s just a phone call away.  
I throw the phone on my bed and continue smoking. It keeps ringing. I get dressed and go out the door.  
\---  
‘Excuse me, sir, I’m going to have to ask you to go back to your room,’ a nurse stops me.  
‘Yes, of course, I’m on my way,’ I tell her. She nods and goes about her work. Turns out walking around a hospital trauma wing with a shoulder brace makes you a lot more inconspicuous. I find Room 14 and sneak inside.  
‘Tommy?’  
His voice is small and quiet, like he’s seen me walk through these doors a hundred times before, only to disappear with the blink of an eye.  
I stand there, by the door. I realize where I am, but I’m not sure how I got here. I don’t know why I got here, but I’m sure there’s some utterly selfish explanation. To lessen the pain, maybe. Or to inflict it. Both completely plausible options.  
‘Tommy, come here,’ Alfie prompts me and I slowly approach his bed. He’s propped in a half-lying position and he looks tired. It’s clear he isn’t getting much sleep either. And he’s… smiling.  
‘I’ve missed you, Tommy,’ Alfie mumbles and kisses my hand, because it’s the closest part of me he can get to. ‘Are you alright?’  
I expected a lot of questions. Where have you been, for example. Or why didn’t you answer your phone. I did not expect this. Suddenly, I feel tired. Not that I wasn’t before, but this is a different kind of weariness. I am tired of feeling. The guilt, the rage, the hatred. I’m tired of it all.  
‘I must say, I expected you to be angrier,’ I comment and Alfie laughs. It’s a low and resonant chuckle that ends in a groan of pain.  
‘Oh, I’m fucking angry, right, livid, in fact,’ Alfie looks at me and I expect those angry eyes that have haunted me for a week now. But his gaze is still soft. Softer than it should be. ‘Doesn’t mean I missed you any less.’  
I look away. I should say it back, shouldn’t I? Cause it’s true. But he’ll never believe me. I was actively avoiding him.  
‘Polly told me,’ Alfie continues. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were actually planning a fucking shootout, eh? What fucking part of your brain saw the mafia and went ‘yeah, I can take them down’?’  
‘I don’t fucking know, Alfie!’ I answer frustratedly. ‘And I don’t fucking care, yeah? My brother just died! I don’t care about Luca, or Campbell, or the fucking mafia. If I could, I would go back and make it not happen, yeah, I would go back and step in front of that fucking bullet, but I can’t fucking do that, can I?’  
‘I can’t say you didn’t warn me about your self-destructive tendencies, right, but you need to promise me that you won’t go out of your way to punish yourself for your brother’s death,’ Alfie says, his voice serious and worried. I recall our conversation on our way to Belfast. He warned me about hurting the people he cares about. It should’ve been the other way around. What selfish prick avoids their boyfriend for a week after a potentially fatal shooting? What lying fucking cunt makes promises he knows he cannot keep?  
I nod but say nothing. I was so close to waking up in the ditch tomorrow. Who knows, maybe in two days’ time? But Alfie seems calmer. He slowly moves to the edge of the bed, making space for me. In that moment, my body realizes that it’s been a week. It’s been a week without his voice, his touch, his warmth.  
I sit down next to him, careful not to hurt his ribs or my shoulder. He kisses the top of my head and I can hear the strained groan when he moves. I want to tell him to be careful and stay still but it’s not like he ever listened to me. We stay there in silence and I can feel the sleepiness seeping into me. It’s like heroin or oxycodone, but instead of haunting dreams, there’s an unfamiliar clarity. I can think of John, but for the first time since the shootout, I don’t feel guilt and anger. Not in that way at least. Not in a way that makes bridges look tempting.  
‘We’ll get through this, right, I’ll make sure of it,’ Alfie mumbles. We. He’s taking a burden off of my shoulders to carry it himself. I really do not deserve him.  
‘Why are you with me?’ I ask after a while. I’m not trying to make him sooth my ego, I am genuinely confused. I have done nothing but get him in trouble ever since I showed up at his door. There is a short sigh followed by a long silence. For a moment, I get worried.  
‘Right, Tommy,’ Alfie starts. ‘Do you remember the first time we met?’  
It’s an odd question. I think back, but nothing comes to me. He was just… there.  
‘Must’ve been some frat party or another,’ I answer.  
‘Hmmm… Of course you don’t remember. I don’t blame you. You were nervous as all hell, pacing up and down in front of the Dean’s office. I thought you must be failing at least half your classes, right, I only learned a week later that you were applying to establish a new fucking fraternity,’ Alfie explains slowly, like he’s just now recalling all these memories.  
I remember that day. Drug dealing was my idea. Establishing the fraternity was Polly’s idea. A way to expand the clientele. It wasn’t supposed to last long, just enough for me to establish a presence among the frat boys. Then I’d disband it. That was the plan. But then people started joining in and I found genuine enjoyment in running a fraternity. That day, I was so nervous the Dean is going to see right through me. I felt like I had the words ‘drug dealer’ written on my forehead. I learned a lesson or two about subtlety and discretion since then.  
‘You know, Luca came to me the night the news came out. He was so fucking offended, it was absolutely comical, mate. ‘How dare he just enter the scene? Who even is he?’’ Alfie continues, talking in a mocking Italian accent for Luca’s parts. I can’t help but laugh along.  
‘He wanted me to promise that I’ll take his side if it came to it. I refused. In my mind, you were this nervous child with big dreams who couldn’t get into a frat house and decided to start his own. I must say I was surprised when you offered me cocaine on the next frat party,’ Alfie chuckles and groans in pain.  
‘Really?’ I ask. ‘I don’t remember that.’  
‘You probably had no fucking idea who I was, right, just another frat boy to you. I warned you not to do business with Luca and you went straight to him. He hated your fucking guts, yeah, came to me to help him dismantle you and Pi Betas. I convinced him doing business with you would be beneficial. Next party, I came to you and introduced myself,’ Alfie finishes the story and smiles. I do remember that. I was pleasantly buzzed and just about to do my first round of search for clientele. I don’t recall our conversation, but I know I hated him. He seemed so smug, seeking me out, just to boast about his long-standing fraternity and his booze empire. He kept talking and I found it obnoxious. I took it that we were only ever going to talk once and then peacefully coexist on the frat scene. But he kept finding me. At the parties, even outside sometimes. He’d approach and he’d talk and eventually it got less obnoxious and then I started talking back. Now that I think about it, it was always him coming to me until that night I showed up at his door.  
‘I’m with you, right, because you fucking baffled me, mate. You still do. You avoid my calls for fucking days and then show up in my hospital room at night, yeah, like that’s a completely normal thing to do,’ Alfie concludes.  
‘I’m not sure that’s a good thing,’ I comment. I never knew erratic unpredictability would win me a man.  
‘It is most definitely not,’ Alfie agrees and nuzzles the top of my head. ‘Never said my taste in men was any good.’  
We lie there for a while and sleep starts to take me. I keep dreaming of those lost memories that stayed with Alfie, but not with me. And maybe I remember them now or maybe I am just fabricating imaginary scenarios, but it doesn’t matter.  
I wake up to the angry yelling of a nurse who practically chases me out of the room. Alfie’s pained laugh is the last thing I hear, before another nurse escorts me outside. I don’t stop smiling until I’m almost back at uni.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the angst didn't last long. I can't bring myself to hurt my boys.
> 
> Also, I'm posting this on my phone so if the formatting is fucky, I'll fix it later.


	16. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy ties in some loose ends.

I notice them before Arthur does. They stand at the back of the church, dressed in black, as is most of the congregation.  
The funeral is sad, but I had my time to mourn. This is a formality. It’s the first time I’ve been to one in the last few years. The solemnity of the atmosphere brings about reflection. Memories of John come flooding back as Arthur, Aberama, Johnny Dogs and I carry the casket to the cemetery. My shoulder, while mostly healed, still hurts under the pressure.  
Polly reads the eulogy that she prepared. It’s short but passionate, just like John’s life. She doesn’t cry, but I can see the pain in her eyes, her posture. I haven’t even apologized for taking him from her. In all ways but a biological one, she’s lost a son.  
We gather around the casket in the chapel for the priest to bless John’s soul. We’re all taking this event in vastly different ways. Polly’s trying to hold her emotions in check, but I can see that she’s upset. She keeps glancing over to Aberama who keeps flashing her reassuring smiles. To her right is Arthur and he’s been crying unconsolably since before the funeral began. He’s always been expressive of his emotions. I know that trying to make him stop would just make it worse. Then there’s me and to my left, it’s Ada and Finn. She’s been holding herself up. She’s sad, but like me, she keeps that sadness to herself. Finn has cried when we told him about John. He’s old enough to know what death is, but too young to comprehend it. Right now, though, he just looks scared of all the strangers.  
People start pouring into the chapel to wish us condolences. Relatives, Pi Betas, Esme, teachers, even some of my drug dealing contacts show up. I nod and thank them. I notice Hancox in the background. He doesn’t come to us and is watching the whole ordeal, his face expressionless. I mean to go find him, thank him for not telling on me but it’s then that the black-clad figures approach.  
‘What the fuck?’ Arthur yells in bewilderment when he notices the Italians. ‘Is this some kind of a sick fucking joke?’  
‘Calm down, Arthur,’ I murmur and nod my head toward them. They step up to Polly first and wish her condolences. She squints her eyes and spits on the ground. If the Italians are offended by that, they don’t show it. They step to Arthur next and I can already see that his arms are trembling.  
‘Alright, back off,’ I tell the Italians and step in front of Arthur.  
‘They killed John, Tommy! Just let me punch ‘em,’ Arthur shouts, not caring for the glances other guests are giving him.  
‘I know, Arthur, but punching won’t solve anything,’ I say, as calmly as I can. Tears are streaming down Arthur’s face now, as he’s holding back his rage.  
‘What do you want?’ I turn to the Italians.  
‘We came to propose a truce,’ one of them says. I remember him from the shootout. He was the one who chased me through the forest.  
‘What fucking truce?’ Arthur hisses. ‘This is war, you fucking wop!’  
‘No, it’s not,’ I correct him. I have half a mind to just tell Arthur to fuck off. I understand his anger. It’s not the easiest thing, looking at someone who shot at you. Who killed your brother. But this is business. If all goes well, we’ll never have to see the Italians again.  
‘Maybe we should talk about this more privately,’ I propose and leave the chapel. The Italians follow me and Polly tends to my enraged brother. A thought crosses my mind, that the wops might be armed, but even the mafia isn’t bold enough to just shoot me in front of a funeral procession.  
‘Alright,’ I say when we’re out of earshot. ‘What’s this about a truce?’  
‘You killed one of ours, we killed one of yours. A tragedy, that it had to come to that, but a fair exchange from our standpoint. Luca was… very dear to us and we need time to mourn and recover. In his wake, we have decided to end our relationship with mister Campbell as it has brought us more pain than good,’ the wop explains. I huff.  
‘Such loyalty, I see,’ I comment.  
‘Mister Campbell was never one of us. He was just a business partner. One that, in the long run, turned out as not very beneficial to us,’ the man explains and I nod.  
‘So, the rivalry we have, the mafia and the gypsies, the Epsilons and the Pi Betas, this is also a business arrangement?’ I ask curiously.  
‘It is now. Whatever personal affairs Luca had, died with him. Angel is still in recovery, but to be honest, he is not much of a leader. It will take a while for the Birmingham branch to recover. Meanwhile, we will let you continue the legal case against mister Campbell and we will leave your kin and your frat house alone if you vow to do the same,’ the Italian proposes and stretches out a hand. I consider it for a moment, but I know I cannot let this pass. We haven’t won the war, we’re just not a battle they want to invest in. And as much as I don’t particularly like the mafia, I don’t really plan to singlehandedly destroy them. I plan to survive. I shake the guy’s hand.  
‘Good. Then let this be the last we see of each other,’ the Italian concludes, does a small bow and the lot of them walk off from the cemetery. I return to my family, Arthur now angrily seething in the corner.  
‘Tell me you told them to fuck off,’ Arthur says when I stand next to him, but we both know what happened. I remain quiet.  
‘Is it over?’ Polly asks instead and I nod. She smiles at me and the relief on her face is palpable. Alfie comes from behind and takes my hand into his own and squeezes reassuringly. I have not done right by my family, but I’ve done my best and I need to hope that’s enough.  
\---  
It’s been a while since the whole house was gathered in the common room. Thirty-four faces are looking up at me, some expectant, some bored, some even angry. I look over at Johnny Dogs and he nods encouragingly.  
‘As all of you know, I have been rather removed from the matters of this fraternity in the recent weeks,’ I start my speech.  
‘I’ll say!’ Rhys comments and his friends chuckle. I let it slide. It was my oversight letting them join but they never bothered me enough to kick them out.  
‘I apologize for any inconveniences my absence caused to any member of this house. After the meeting, you can come up to me and discuss any pressing matters you have not been able to solve on your own during this time,’ I invite and I see a few of the boys nod. I have never turned any one of them away, yet most of the frat boys seem reluctant to come up to me for help. I think they find me intimidating and I don’t mind that.  
‘Is it true that you fought the mafia?’ one of the older blokes asks. I’m not surprised that word got around, but I ignore him. It helps to have an aura of mystery around yourself. It makes you harder to predict and that’s important in my line of business.  
‘However, in the light of recent events, including the untimely death of my younger brother, who was supposed to take over when I graduate, I’ve decided to disband this fraternity,’ I announce. There’s a moment of silence. The kids look at each other and then at me. Confused exclamations echo around the room. Rhys stands up.  
‘You can’t do that!’ he protests and some of the people in the crowd join in. I expected as much. I patiently wait for them to calm down before continuing.  
I’ve discussed this with Alfie. The Pi Beta house reminded me of John. He was the only thing tying me to the fraternity. He was so excited for the frat life. This was to be my legacy to him. Teach him how to lead and give him an army. Now, I just have a sad house of people whose names I can barely remember and whose lives I don’t give a fuck about. They deserve better.  
Alfie offered to merge our fraternities. He’s graduating next year and leaving the whole thing over to Ollie and he’s on board as well. Alfie reckons the university will encourage the merge as a sign of goodwill. They don’t care much about what goes on with the fraternities as long as we don’t do anything to damage the school’s reputation. I gladly took him up on the offer. Not because it’s the easy way out but because I genuinely think it’s the best option.  
‘I know for some of you, being in a fraternity is important, for a variety of reasons. That’s why I talked with mister Solomons from the Alpha Beta Sigma fraternity and he is happy to welcome any one of you that decides to transfer,’ I explain. Some of the boys seem to calm down, but Rhys is still angrily pointing a finger at me.  
‘We’re Pi Betas, not Alphas and there’s a reason for that!’ Rhys pokes.  
‘And as far as I recall, your reason was that your grades weren’t good enough to apply for any other frat house at Birmingham University, so now’s your chance,’ I retort and it seems to take him down a notch. Just enough for some other students to start asking actually relevant questions about the transfer. I explain the legal stuff: where their house is, what their values are, how no, it’s not exclusively Jewish, although the majority is. I stay clear of the booze trade, although most Pi Betas already know who to contact if they want to get drunk discreetly.  
When there’s no more questions, I call the meeting adjourned, but encourage the students who’d like to join the Alphas to register with Johnny Dogs and wait for Alfie who should be here any minute. Rhys huffs and quickly leaves the room. Some of the Pi Betas start lining up in front of Johnny’s desk and some even come up to the podium to ask me for more information about the Alphas.  
‘Excuse me if this is too forward, but there’s a rumour that you and mister Solomons are… dating?’ asks one of the kids, Trevor, I think. He’s John’s age. I thought about it, whether our relationship should be public or not. I asked Alfie but he just murmured that he doesn’t give a fuck what people think, right, so it makes no fucking difference to him. But I don’t feel like denying anything. I’m not ashamed and we’re going to be living together anyway, so it’s not like people won’t notice.  
‘Not that it’s any of your business, eh, but yes, it’s true,’ I admit and damn it, if there’s not a slight blush creeping up my cheeks. Trevor smiles at that and looks at the ground.  
‘Heh, I thought I was the only gay frat boy,’ Trevor says meekly. I’m bi, technically, but I don’t correct him.  
‘What is he like? Mister Solomons?’ asks Trevor cautiously. ‘I’ve seen him at the ape. He’s… intimidating.’  
‘Intimidating?’ I repeat. I must admit, when I first met him, I was a bit intimidated. But he’s surprised me, in more ways than one. ‘He can be, I suppose. He demands loyalty, more so that I, and he takes no bullshit. But he takes care of his own. Believe me, you’re in good hands.’  
Trevor smiles nervously at that. Behind him, the doors open and Alfie walks in, slowly and confidently, like he owns the place.  
‘Speak of the devil,’ I comment and smile nod in his direction. Trevor turns and almost trembles when he sees Alfie approaching me. But then Alfie smiles at me and I fail to understand how anyone can be intimidated by that sweetheart.  
‘Alfie, this is Trevor,’ I introduce the boy. ‘Trevor, mister Solomons.’  
‘Hello,’ Trevor greets, his voice quiet and uncertain. Alfie nods.  
‘Hello, Trevor. Are you transferring to the Alphas?’ he asks, more out of politeness than curiosity. Trevor nods vehemently and Alfie pets his head. He just fucking taps his head twice like it’s some weird fucking baptism.  
‘Well, you’re welcome to join us. We can arrange room 29 for you,’ Alfie says with a smile and Trevor’s eyes widen before he looks away awkwardly and excuses himself. Alfie seems utterly amused by the situation.  
‘Room 29?’ I ask. I have no idea what just happened.  
‘Ollie tells me your Trevor here frequently visits room 29, right, coincidentally around the same time as we get noise complaints from rooms 28 and 30. Something about ‘ungodly loud moaning’. I reckon it’ll get quieter, yeah, when he gets used to the pounding,’ Alfie explains, not even bothering to lower the volume. I look around the room but it seems Trevor’s disappeared.  
‘You really didn’t know that?’ Alfie asks and I shake my head. I just found out he’s gay. ‘You really ought to keep an eye on your boys.’  
I look around the room. Some Pi Betas are still signing up and the rest of them are talking among themselves, barely showing any attention to the podium.  
‘How did it go?’ I ask Alfie. He’s been at his mother’s putting together a recounting of Campbell being a cunt for the social media. I offered to come with him, but he refused. It’s a very personal and emotional matter and also a somewhat bonding experience for him and his mother, so I didn’t force it.  
‘We mostly just talked. But we made a quick draft of how this should be approached, right. I’m going to go over it with Yitzak later. You can join if you want to,’ Alfie briefs me. I nod. I feel better now that things are moving again and I can keep myself busy.  
‘I’m going back to Polly’s later,’ I say and Alfie hums. Polly’s back at her house since the funeral. I’ve been visiting a lot. I guess, it’s the guilt of not having spent enough time with John that makes me want to take care of my family. Ada is taking a break from school and staying over at Polly’s. Arthur is focusing on boxing again, letting out his frustration and anger, but he’s visiting frequently, as is Aberama, apparently. Polly told me he’s invited her to join him at the gypsy encampment, but she turned him down. She said she needs to take care of Finn first, but will keep in contact and maybe join him down the line.  
‘Just for dinner. I’ll be back before midnight,’ I assure him and his eyes glint with a certain promise. His closeness, sexual and otherwise, really helped me unwind when I was at my tensest. We still need to be careful in bed, me with my fucked up shoulder, him with his barely healed ribs. But we make it work, endorphins numbing the pain, both physical and emotional.  
‘Anyway, you wanted me to give a speech?’ Alfie’s question calls me back to the present. I nod and turn to address whoever stayed here, about fifteen to twenty students.  
‘Alright, Pi Betas. You probably know him, but in case you don’t, this is Alfie Solomons, head of Alpha Beta Sigma. He’s come here to address you as potential future Alphas and answer any of your questions,’ I announce. A few Pi Betas begin clapping and when I join them, the rest do too. I back away from the podium and sit in the first row. Alfie steps forward, to the edge of the podium and clears his throat.  
‘Right, hello. When Tommy first established Pi Beta fraternity, what was it, two years ago?’ Alfie starts and looks at me quizzically.  
‘Three,’ I answer.  
‘Has it been three already? Time flies. Right. When I found out about this fraternity, I was shocked, right. I was shook, as the kids say,’ Alfie continues. Is he trying to lose members? I shake my head, but I can’t stop the small smile from forming at my lips.  
‘Because this fraternity wasn’t founded on money, right, it was founded on values. Ones that I wholeheartedly support. Cooperation, yeah, very important. Helping each other, all that. Ambition. Also important, right, if you want to be someone in this wicked world. And honesty. The foundation, the fucking foundation of any relationship. And I’m not talking about love and such bullshit, I’m talking about you and me. So, I’m gonna be honest here – the fact that almost anyone can get in this fraternity of yours really bugs me, yeah, it’s a bit unseemly. But there’s another side to honesty, right, there’s trust. So I’m going to trust you. I’m going to trust that every and each one of you wants this for the right reasons – to be a part of a society, that’s built on cooperation, ambition and honesty. I’m going to trust that living in a fraternity for however long you’ve been here has taught you some things. I’m going to trust that you will adapt to the Alphas and be able to coexist. Any sort of rivalry will absolutely not be fucking tolerated, yeah? And I’m going to trust that by the time I graduate, none of you will make me regret my decision to give you a place in the Alpha house,’ Alfie pauses for a moment, before he drops his intimidating persona and continues.  
‘Right. In return, you can trust me that I will treat you the way I would any other Alpha and that is fairly. You have any complaints, you come directly to me, right, or to Ollie, who will oversee your joining process from the Alpha side. Any questions?’  
A resounding silence fills the room. I smile up at Alfie and he smiles back at me. After a few more moments of silence, he waves his hand dismissively.  
‘Alright, go back to whatever it was you were doing,’ he mumbles before stepping of the podium and coming to sit next to me. The students slowly start pouring out of the room.  
‘You didn’t have to scare them, you know?’ I say and he chuckles.  
‘If they’re scared that easily,’ he shakes his head. ‘So what do you say we go to mine and do something fun before you run off for dinner?’  
His voice is quiet and seductive. He knows exactly what it’s doing to me.  
‘Mmmm,’ I hum to collect my thoughts. ‘I was already late two days ago because of you.’  
‘Don’t act fucking innocent, right,’ Alfie counters. ‘That was your idea.’  
‘I know,’ I admit. Memories flood my mind: the warmth of Alfie’s mouth on me, the way he looked up at me with those dark eyes, the press of the wall behind me as it was the only thing keeping me upright when my legs gave in. Fuck.  
But as good as that made me feel, I’m too tired for that now. I’ve been catching up with the fraternity paperwork for majority of the afternoon.  
‘Tell you what, we go to yours and take a nap instead,’ I suggest. I half expect Alfie to grunt disappointedly but his smile actually widens.  
‘As if I’m going to miss an opportunity to cuddle,’ he comments and stands up, extending his hand toward me. I take it.  
I arrive to Polly’s an hour late, but she doesn’t seem angry.  
‘Next time, just bring him along,’ she comments as she microwaves my dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guys, just one more chapter left. As of now it's a bit shorter than most, an epilogue of sorts, but I am planning to expand it a bit with some of the remaining conclusions that I've noticed are missing.


	17. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We catch up with everyone one year later.

ONE YEAR LATER

The silence is disturbed only by Arthur’s quiet crying and faint murmurs of a funeral taking place some way off.

  1. 4\. 1988 - 5. 11. 2019



There really shouldn’t be two dates under John’s name. There shouldn’t be a cross above it. This shouldn’t have happened. His face still haunts my dreams sometimes.

I feel a reassuring hand on my back and realize I’m trembling. I smile at Alfie and he smiles back.

‘It’s okay, sweetheart,’ Arthur’s girlfriend, Linda, consoles him, but he just shakes his head and keeps sobbing. I offer Arthur my hand and he grabs it like it’s his lifeline and quiet envelopes us once again.

‘I can’t believe it’s been a year,’ Ada comments. She kneels down and takes the vase out to change the flowers.

It’s exactly a year since the shootout and John’s death, so we all gathered together in honour and remembrance. With Grace visiting, Aberama, Linda and Ben, Ada’s new boyfriend, there’s more of us around John’s grave than at the funeral that’s currently taking place. I look over. The priest is reciting some rite to five people standing around a simple wooden coffin. Everyone seems so stoic and emotionless. I can’t say I’m shedding any tears either.

It’s rather ironic, really, that Campbell’s funeral would take place on the anniversary of John’s death. After Alfie’s mother and Sarah went public with their story, social media did their thing. More people stepped forward: two women he sexually assaulted, another he threatened when she wanted to go to the police after he almost raped her. His co-workers as well, from Belfast and Birmingham, led by Moss, claiming misconduct and tempering with the evidence. It all spiralled out of control. People demanded justice. He was fired and prosecuted again, but he never showed up to court. Instead, he was found dead in his house, laying on the ground with a noose around his neck. No goodbye note, no will. In the end, he had no one.

‘It’s kinda sad, isn’t it,’ I comment, looking at the pathetic funeral procession.

‘Bastard deserved it,’ Alfie mutters, no sympathy in his voice. I don’t disagree, but I never wanted it this way. I wanted justice, not more death.

Ada comes back with fresh flowers and carefully puts the vase back in its place.

‘What was he like, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Ben inquiries. It takes me a second to realize he means John. He never really met him.

‘He was a sweet boy,’ Polly answers. ‘We can exchange stories over lunch.’

She smiles at the grave, the way she used to smile at us when we were little, and turns, taking Aberama by the elbow. Grace politely excuses herself from lunch, claiming that she has a flight to catch. She nods toward me and Alfie. She doesn’t seem angry, just reserved. Whatever connection we had is lost now. But I’m glad she came to visit.

Slowly, we all leave the cemetery and go to our cars. The crushing atmosphere of solemnity lifts up and I reach over the handbrake and pull Alfie in for a kiss. He hums quietly and deepens the kiss but lets go before things can get too heated. He clears his throat.

‘So, I’m guessing we’re going to your aunt’s now?’ he asks and I nod. He doesn’t particularly like spending time at our place. He’s not used to a big household and to be fair, my family hasn’t really made him feel welcome either. Polly seems to like him, but she’s always wary around him and Arthur keeps glaring at him, even though he’s got his boxing license now. Ada likes him well enough, but she still seems a bit intimidated by his presence. Finn is the only one who’s really warmed up to him.

‘It’s just a quick lunch and then we’re back to our place,’ I promise. ‘Our place’ being Alfie’s and my new apartment. He’s graduated. Alfie Solomons, BBA. I have another year to go, but opted to stay with Alfie, off campus. I don’t really feel a connection to it all, the University or the frat scene. My life is elsewhere. It’s with him.

‘I’m not a smart man, right, but I’m not that gullible either. I’ve been to Polly’s feasts before. It’s never a ‘quick lunch’, right, it’s an overindulging ceremonious banquet that drags on for hours,’ Alfie complains.

‘Only on special occasions,’ I correct him and he doesn’t even comment, just looks at me, making it clear that he knows I’m full of shit.

‘Tell you what: for every hour we spend at Polly’s, you get to do whatever you want to me in bed,’ I offer, speaking quietly for some reason, although we’re alone in the car. Alfie smiles but just shakes his head.

‘You need to offer me something I don’t already have, Tommy,’ Alfie counters, his gaze challenging me.

‘Fine. You get to do what you want  _ and _ I won’t complain,’ I up my ante. Alfie just laughs and starts the car.

‘Deal,’ he agrees. ‘You won’t last a day, the brat you are.’

I huff mockingly and he turns the car toward Polly’s place.

\---

‘So he ran, all the way home, just in his briefs,’ Ada finishes the story and everyone laughs fondly. We’ve all been sharing stories. Us, that knew John well enough, anyway. Even Aberama had a story to tell, from back in the day when us boys would come to stay with the caravan.

‘Thank you so much for the food, Polly, but I really have to go,’ Arthur announces. He has a boxing match today.

‘Good luck,’ I wish him, but I doubt he’ll need it. He fights best when he’s high on emotions and he rarely isn’t.

‘Come, Linda,’ he stretches out the hand to his girlfriend, who politely says goodbye to us all and goes to get their coats. I don’t much like her, but she seems good for Arthur, if a bit overly religious for my taste.

‘Mmmm, might I get a second serving of this delicious gypsy tart, Polly?’ Alfie asks after Arthur and Linda are gone. He’s already eaten his and my piece.

‘Of course, coming right up,’ Polly says and waltzes into the kitchen.

Alfie flashes me a wide grin and I roll my eyes. I know what he’s doing, the fucker. He usually waits for the first opportunity to leave, but today, he’s making it perfectly clear that I’m going to have to be the one to drag him home.

‘So, I heard you used to be a frat boy,’ Ben turns to me. I’ve had that comment thrown at me many a time before and there’s always some sort of contempt behind it.

‘Still am, technically,’ I confirm, letting Ben steer the conversation further.

‘What about you, Alfie?’ Ben asks after seeing my reluctance. Alfie quickly thanks Polly for the tart she brought and then looks over to Ben.

‘Not anymore, yeah, but I used to be. Did you know, Tommy and I actually first talked at a frat party, hmm?’ Alfie says, as if that titbit of information is somehow very amusing and gratefully starts devouring his tart. He then proceeds to tell stories about our college parties, skipping over the naughtiest bits and making some things up as he goes. Ben takes everything in with big curious eyes and hundreds of questions.

‘You’re not enrolling in a fraternity,’ Ada insists at one point, making sure that Ben doesn’t get any big ideas.

‘Oh, it’s not that bad,’ Alfie dismisses her. ‘Your brother turned out fine.’

‘One of them,’ Ada whispers under her breath and the atmosphere suddenly turns heavy. She’s developed a strong dislike for the concept of fraternities. ‘Too many secrets and too much death,’ she says.

‘Alright then, I think we’re going to head back home,’ I take the opportunity to excuse us. Not really because of the deal with Alfie, it just seemed like a good idea to give Polly some space to breathe. I stand up and Alfie follows suit.

‘Yes, we should probably go to, right Ada?’ Ben asks, still unsure how exactly to act in our household.

‘We should,’ Ada agrees and stands up.

‘Oi!’ Polly shouts and stands up as well. ‘I cook for all of you and all you do is say your sweet goodbyes and leave? One of yous is going to stay behind and help me clean up, yeah?’

It’s a tone that leaves no room for negotiation. I’m just about to speak, when Ada chimes in: ‘I washed the dishes last time. Tommy can do it.’

‘Alright, Tommy, Alfie, you’re helping out. You too, Finn. No need for us girls to do all the work,’ Polly agrees and that’s it. I can see Alfie’s sly smile and I take his hand to pull him close.

‘This doesn’t count,’ I whisper in his ear and he just chuckles.

‘Oh, but it does,’ he differs and winks. We say goodbye to Ada and Ben and start taking the plates to the kitchen. With the three of us, we get through the dishes quickly enough, but just as we’re about to leave, five hours in, Polly stops at the kitchen door, looking at us fondly.

‘I haven’t given you the welcome you deserve,’ she starts, her voice quiet and solemn. We both look at her in confusion.

‘I’ve been overwhelmed. When I first met you, you were sweeping my nephew away to investigate some bloody copper and when I saw you again, it was my other nephew’s funeral. I was so focused on what I was losing, I didn’t feel ready to accept someone new,’ Polly explains and I can see Alfie’s features soften. It’s a rare sight, seeing Alfie caught off guard.

‘Just be good to him, and we’ll be alright,’ she concludes and Alfie flashes me a soft smile and I smile back. It’s a silent promise. He’ll be good to me and god knows I’ll try my best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys. As I said at the beginning, it's all over the place, the plot got away from me a few times. Still, hope you enjoyed the story. I have some ideas that I might work on, you never know, but we'll see.


End file.
